


One Word

by angelofthequeers



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Anal Fingering, Anal Sex, Angst, BAMF Castiel, BAMF Dean, Bisexual Dean, Castiel Comforts Dean, Cuddling & Snuggling, Dean Has Abandonment Issues, Dean Has Issues, Dean Has Self-Worth Issues, Dean Needs to Use Actual Words, Dean and Feelings, Dirty Dancing References, Emotional Sex, Episode: s08e17 Goodbye Stranger, Episode: s08e18 Freaks and Geeks, Episode: s08e19 Taxi Driver, Eventual Smut, Fluff, Frottage, Hurt Castiel, Hurt Dean Winchester, Hurt/Comfort, Kissing, M/M, Naomi is a bitch, Romance, Slow Build, Smut, Torture
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-02-01
Updated: 2017-03-14
Packaged: 2018-09-21 06:17:45
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 15
Words: 42,962
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9535469
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/angelofthequeers/pseuds/angelofthequeers
Summary: We all know that Dean was originally going to say "I love you," instead of "I need you," in 'Goodbye Stranger', but it was removed from the script. What if he HAD said it? What difference can one little word make?





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Disclaimer: I don’t own SPN.
> 
> This fic has been a long time in the making, but I thought I’d give it a go and see how I fare with multi-chapter fics after my last disaster. Which I’m not going to name. It was deleted.

Dean can’t stand it anymore. He’d thought that this damn crush would go away after a while but it’s only gotten stronger! How the hell is he supposed to stand being around his best friend if all he can do is stare at Castiel? How’s he supposed to concentrate when the angel’s dark hair and bright blue eyes and chapped lips keep distracting him? Because that’s all that goes through his mind whenever the angel pops in!

Sam knows, of course. The stupid moose keeps smirking at Dean every time Castiel appears and distracts him; and whenever Castiel leaves, Sam always makes _some_ sort of suggestive comment.

“Cas has nice hair, don’t you think?”

“If I wasn’t straight, I’d go right up to him and kiss those big, pink lips, y’know.”

“Don’t those deep blue eyes just draw you in, Dean?”

These comments make Dean _very_ suspicious of his little brother’s supposed ‘straightness’ (what was he doing looking at Castiel’s lips anyway?) but he’s mostly annoyed at Sam’s incessant suggestiveness and nagging. Why can’t Sam just leave him alone? He’d tell Castiel how he feels when he’s ready!

Which, in Dean language, means never. And he has good reason. There’s no way that Castiel could ever love him back! Why would he? Castiel’s an emotionless, beautiful, perfect celestial being who deserves the best of the best after all the crap he’s been through for them. And Dean’s just…Dean. Boring, stupid old Dean, who’d dropped out with a GED and whose only purpose in life is to protect his little brother and to fuck up the world.

Dean doesn’t know exactly when he’d started to fall for Castiel. But it had definitely started sometime during their attempt to stop the Apocalypse, and had only intensified once Castiel had been killed by the Leviathans; when Dean had truly felt the angel’s loss for the first time. He’d been both thrilled and gutted when he’d found an amnesiac Castiel living with his wife (and who the hell married a man they’d found in a river?) and really, while he felt terrible for leaving an insane Castiel in a mental institution, he reasoned that it was the best place for Castiel to stay out of danger. And it gave him space and time to sort out his feelings for his best friend.

Those shitty justifications just made Dean feel even worse but he clung to them. They cemented to him that he was a crappy person, undeserving of Castiel’s love when all he did was hurt and use the angel, and this gave him a strange sense of comfort. These were feelings he knew; feelings that he was comfortable with.

In Purgatory, Dean’s feelings had only grown. He wasn’t surprised that Benny quickly picked up on it, what with his determination to find Castiel and the way he’d hugged the angel tightly and taken the opportunity to bury his nose in Castiel’s hair and breathe in his scent and relish the closeness while trying to ignore the butterflies exploding in his stomach and fluttering all around him. He’d been disappointed when Castiel hadn’t hugged him back but he did suppose he deserved that. It _was_ his fault that the angel was here, after all.

“You gonna tell him?” Benny murmured one night to Dean, who was watching Castiel curl up next to a tree and wrap himself in his filthy coat. Dean’s heart ached for him.

“Tell him what?”

“About how you love him.”

Dean shot Benny a sharp look.

“Don’t give me that look, brother. Anyone with eyes can tell how much you love that angel.”

“I’m crap for him, Benny,” Dean said firmly. “It’s my fault he’s here. All I do is fuck things up for Cas and I dunno why he sticks around. I don’t deserve him. And he doesn’t even like me back. I know it. We’re probably gonna die here anyway so why dump that on him? Besides, he’s got a thing for Meg. He prefers a _demon_ over me. How much more of a hint do I need?”

Benny listened to his spiel patiently. Dean expected the vampire to begin to painfully dissect each pitiful argument and try to make him talk to Cas but all Benny did was pat him on the shoulder sympathetically.

“I’m sorry you feel that way, brother. You’re worth more than you think.”

And with that, he got up and began to slowly pace and keep watch. Dean appreciated the fact that Benny was leaving him be but he couldn’t help but disagree with his friend. He _wasn’t_ worth much. All he was good for was protecting Sammy – and he’d even failed at that multiple times.

Noticing that Castiel was still shivering, Dean heaved himself to his feet and sank down next to Castiel. The angel jumped, staring at Dean with wide blue eyes.

“You cold?” Dean said. Before Castiel could say anything, Dean had taken off his jacket and wrapped it around the angel. Castiel continued to stare at him.

“I am just uncomfortable, Dean,” he said in his low, gravelly voice after a moment. Dean quickly suppressed any thoughts of what that voice would sound like when it was hoarsely crying out as Dean pounded into him, instead choosing to focus on Castiel’s lips. Sure, now his mind was filled with fantasies of passionately making out with the angel but it was safer than some of his dirtier thoughts. “I should not be here. All I’m doing is attracting monsters to you.”

“Shut it, Cas,” Dean said firmly. “I’m not letting you go off on your own. I don’t care if you’re a monster magnet. You’re my friend and I don’t ditch friends.”

Except when he had. But Dean tried not to think about that at the moment.

The next moment, Castiel shocked the hell of Dean by shifting over and leaning into him. Startled, Dean tried to move, wondering if Castiel was just trying to lie down, but Castiel stubbornly snuggled into his side and closed his eyes. After a moment, Dean lowered his arms and hesitantly put his right arm around Castiel in a loose embrace. A short distance away, Benny was smirking at him and Dean glared at him until the vampire held his hands up in surrender and turned away.

Getting out of Purgatory without Castiel had nearly killed Dean and all he could do in the following weeks was beat himself up about it. How could he have let Castiel go? How could he have left the angel in that place by himself? What kind of fucked up friend did that? Dean knew that Sam noticed his less-than-cheerful state but, to his little brother’s credit, he never said anything and let Dean wallow in self-pity (although that was probably because he was too preoccupied with that girl he’d chosen to shack up with rather than trying to get Dean out).

When Castiel had magically escaped from Purgatory and gone straight to him, Dean had been ecstatic. But then his good mood had plummeted. Who’d gotten Castiel out? And how could he face his best friend after all the crap he’d put him through? After leaving Castiel in Purgatory? Even when Castiel had showed Dean that he’d chosen to stay behind – and Dean felt marginally better at the fact that he hadn’t ditched Castiel – he still felt like absolute crap. Sam talking about how Garth was going to protect Kevin and Linda Tran provided a welcome distraction, though Castiel’s inattentiveness throughout the whole thing set Dean on edge. Since when was Castel that spacey?

It isn’t until a few months later, in Lucifer’s crypt, that Dean finally gets his answer.

“What have you done to me, Naomi?” Castiel cries, doubling over. Dean, his bloody face throbbing from the beat-down Castiel has been dishing, freezes.

“Who’s Naomi?” he demands. Is this Naomi bitch why Castiel is trying to break his face? “Cas!” He struggles to his knees and puts a hand on Castiel’s shoulder but in response, Castiel backhands him into a wall. When Dean tries to punch Castiel, to maybe knock some sense into him, Castiel grabs his fist in an iron-tight grip and twists sharply. Dean lets out a pained cry as his arm shatters, sending lightning bolts of agony shooting up his arm and making him nearly black out. How is he supposed to reason with Castiel? Is this how he’s finally going to die? At the hands of his best friend?

As Castiel continues to beat and punch him, turning his face into a bloody display of minced meat, Dean tries to curl in on himself and wait it out, praying for Castiel to just end it and run him through with his blade. But Castiel keeps hitting him and it’s all Dean can do not to cry at the pain, both physical and emotional. Physical pain is something that he’s used to and he’s _not_ going to show weakness when Castiel is already dominating over him.

“You want it?” he spits at Castiel, who simply looks at him blankly. The glazed, empty look in the angel’s eyes cuts Dean to his very core. “Take it!” He shifts the tablet that’s next to him. “But you’re gonna have to kill me first! Come on, you coward. Do it! Do it!”

Is he yelling at Castiel or Naomi? He doesn’t know. But Castiel doesn’t answer, instead choosing to raise his fist and punch Dean extra painfully. So Dean does the only thing he can do.

He pleads.

“Cas…this isn’t you…this isn’t you, Cas…” He weakly reaches out for the angel, fumbling to grip his trench coat sleeve. “Cas, I know you’re in there…”

Castiel simply raises his angel blade, ready to stab Dean.

“I know you can hear me, Cas…” His voice breaks. “It’s me. We’re family. We need you. _I_ need you.”

Castiel pauses. For a brief moment, Dean thinks he can see something flicker in Castiel’s emotionless blue eyes and so, taking a deep breath, he forces out the three words he’s wanted to tell Castiel for years.

“I love you.”

The _clang_ of Castiel’s angel blade falling to the ground rings loudly in Dean’s ears and he finally allows himself to groan in pain as Castiel reaches down and picks up the tablet, which begins to glow. Dean weakly tries to shield his eyes from the burst of brilliant white light that’s being emitted from the tablet but his broken arm flares painfully, distracting him until the light starts to fade. Castiel is still standing over Dean, staring at him with wide blue eyes.

“Cas?” Dean says. In response, Castiel reaches out for Dean, who tries to scramble back, terrified that Castiel is going to start beating him up again. “No. Cas. Cas!”

Castiel gently cradles Dean’s face with one hand. Dean closes his eyes, ready for the smiting that’s sure to follow. Instead, a jolt of hot, clean energy surges through him and he gasps when he feels his arm and face immediately begin to heal.

“I’m so sorry, Dean,” Castiel says softly. Dean stares up at Castiel in shock, stunned that his _words_ have apparently just broken the angel free of whoever had been controlling him.

“What the hell just happened?” Dean demands, climbing to his feet.

“It was Naomi,” Castiel says heavily, not meeting Dean’s eyes. “She and her faction pulled me out of Purgatory and then Naomi began to…brainwash me. She told me to kill Samandriel…and you.”

Dean stares at Castiel, who is still looking down. To his horror, Castiel looks close to tears and Dean wants to reach out, to comfort Castiel, but he doesn’t know how the angel would take it.

“She made me – she made me kill you,” Castiel murmurs. He slides to the floor, his face buried in his hands and the tablet cradled in his arms, and Dean follows, kneeling down next to the angel. “Thousands of copies…thousands of times. Until it became second-nature. Until I became…numb. I didn’t want to, Dean – please believe me. I’d never willingly hurt you!”

Dean’s heart breaks at the pure, raw pain in Castiel’s voice.

“Cas! It’s cool!” he says. And it is. Castiel can’t help the fact that he’d been forced to do all of that crap but even if he had been able to, a small part of Dean is adamant that he deserves it; that his attack just then is simply penance for all the crap he’s put Castiel through, and even then it isn’t enough. He shoves these thoughts aside for the moment.

“So this ‘Naomi’ has been controlling you since she got you out of Purgatory?”

“Yes,” Castiel says grimly, his face still buried in his hands.

“What broke the connection?”

“I don’t know. I just know that I have to protect this tablet now.”

“From Naomi?”

“Yes. And from you.”

Dean stares at Castiel, stunned. Castiel begin to stand up but Dean’s hand shoots up and grabs his sleeve. He _has_ to get Castiel to stay. No way can he let his best friend just walk away again!

“Don’t go, Cas.” He stands up, grabbing Castiel’s other sleeve as well. “Please. Talk to me. We can protect the tablet together. We can hide you from Naomi. We’ve got a bunker, y’see? It’s warded from everything – safest place on Earth, someone said. You can hide the tablet there and I won’t even ask where it is. Just – please, Cas. Don’t leave us again. Don’t leave _me_ again. Not after –” Dean takes a deep breath, aware that he’s rambling. “Not after what just happened.”

Castiel finally meets Dean’s eyes. Dean nearly laughs in relief when he sees the familiar deep blue light, rather than the dull haze of mind control. The angel seems to consider him for a moment before looking down at the tablet.

“Very well, Dean.” Dean’s heart soars at those words. “If this bunker really is the safest place on Earth then it should be a suitable hiding place for this tablet.”

The two of them stare at each other. Just as Dean is deciding that fuck it, he’s going to kiss Castiel even if the angel likes Meg and not him, Sam comes barrelling into the crypt and effectively kills the mood.

“Dean! Cas!” he says. “We’ve got to go. _Now_.”

“Where’s Meg?” Castiel says. Dean feels his heart sink a little.

“Holding off Crowley. Look, we have to go!”

Dean grabs Castiel by the arm and pulls the angel out of the crypt behind him but Castiel skids to a halt at the entrance.

“Dude! What’s wrong? We have to go!” Dean says, tugging Castiel.

“Crowley,” Castiel murmurs. “If he sees me with the tablet, he will target you. He will attack you until he gets it. I – I will fly away until you escape, so that Crowley thinks that the tablet is long gone.”

Dean feels a stab of irritation that Castiel is going to leave but at the same time, the plan makes sense. If Crowley sees the tablet, he’ll stop at nothing to pry it from Castiel’s hands. But if Castiel is already gone then the demon will think that it’s long gone, therefore allowing them a slightly better chance of escaping.

“Fine,” Dean finally says. “We’ll call once we get out. Just – make sure you come, right? Don’t go off in the wind.”

Castiel gives Dean an almost-smile. Dean’s insides flutter.

“Of course, Dean. I’ll see you soon.”

Castiel vanishes, leaving Dean to run after Sam and send a silent prayer up that Castiel is alright.


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Disclaimer: I don’t own SPN.
> 
> Thanks to GreiFall, RGSupremeWW4630, Dean_The_princess_Winchester, AngelisticSatan, LokiNeedsHugs1031, Dragonfli, SophiaWhoLock, Crazylady69 and Angelkrushnic for your comments :)

“You okay, man?”

Dean’s hands clench around the steering wheel when Sam shatters the silence that’s been hovering between them since they left the crypt. Quickly recovering from his surprise, he pastes a cocky grin onto his face.

“Sure!” Dean says cheerily. “Why the hell wouldn’t I be?”

“Y’know…’cause Cas kinda got a bit rough with you.” Sam’s voice is careful, as though he’s walking on eggshells. Dean loves it when he can make Sam wary like this; it doesn’t hurt for the little bitch to remember his place as the little brother.

“Yeah, and?”

Sam pauses for a moment.

“And I just wanna make sure you’re okay after that.”

“So, what, you want me talk about my feelings?” Dean snorts. The day Sam successfully gets him to open up about his feelings is the day he grows lady parts and calls himself Deanna.

“I just don’t want you to suffer in silence like you always do.”

Dean rolls his eyes so hard that he swears he sees stars.

“Aww, look at you!” he teases. “Little baby brother thinks he’s a shrink.”

“You’re an asshole,” Sam snaps, though with no real heat behind his words. “Dean, I know something big went down in that crypt. You and Cas…you were staring at each other but that time, it was _different_. What happened?”

“Oh, the usual,” Dean says airily. “We find the powerful artefact we’re after, Cas turns out to’ve been angel Imperiused the whole time and I get a crash course in telling the difference between my radius and ulna. There’s no difference, by the way. I don’t care what your nerd books tell you.”

“ _What_? Back up – Cas was being controlled?”

Dean gives a twisted smile and fills Sam in on everything: from Naomi pulling Castiel out of Purgatory, to training the angel to kill him through thousands of copies, and then to Castiel being controlled in the crypt. He’s not sure just why he’s spilling to Sam but he figures as long as he keeps feelings out of it, he’s all good.

“Poor Cas,” Sam says in quiet shock once Dean’s finished telling his story. “I can’t believe we didn’t notice. He was spacing out and acting weird for months!”

Dean sets his jaw to try and fight the rush of guilt that floods through him. He’s been worried about Castiel for ages, yet not once did he even try and get the angel to open up. He knows that’s all on him and his damn allergy to talking about anything that even resembles emotions, but surely he could’ve spared at least two minutes to ask Castiel if everything was okay! But now Alfie’s dead for no reason and Castiel’s head is fucked up –

“It’s not your fault, Dean,” Sam says, interrupting Dean’s inner self-hatred fest. “It’s not like you could’ve told that Cas –”

“But I damn well should’ve!” Dean snarls. “I knew there was something fishy about how he got out! I knew he wasn’t all there! If I’d freaking told him before –”

Realising that he’s straying into the realm of ‘feelings’, Dean’s mouth snaps shut. Sam frowns at him curiously.

“Dean? If you’d told him what before?”

“Nothing.”

“Dean –”

“Nothing, Sam! Now, if you’re done with your little tea party?”

Without waiting for an answer, Dean reaches out and switches his music on. The sweet sounds of _AC/DC_ drown out Sam’s attempts at having a heartfelt share-fest and eventually, to Dean’s relief, the little bitch gives up and slumps against his seat with a small grimace. Dean takes note of this, swearing to himself to talk to Sam later about what the first trial of Hell did to him.

* * *

 

They stop for crappy diner food about four hours into the drive, though neither of them particularly want to sit down and eat in with the bunker only being another four hours away. So they speed on, greasy food wrappers strewn between them and Dean showing off the skill he mastered years ago: eating a burger and fries without getting salt and oil on Baby’s steering wheel. It isn’t until they’ve finished their food and are letting it digest that Sam tries to have another conversation.

“So…Cas is gonna meet us there?” he says. Dean grunts. He’s so not in the mood for another heart-to-heart.

“You were there. You heard him.”

“Yeah, I know! I just mean…does he even know _where_ the bunker is? It’s warded against _everything_ , Dean.”

Dean mutters some choice words under his breath.

“Didn’t even think of that.”

Without even looking, he pulls his phone out and brings up Castiel’s number, hoping that the damn guy answers his phone. He could just pray, but he kind of doesn’t want every Tom, Dick and Harry angel out there to know where to find them – not to mention that at least with Castiel on the phone, he can be sure that the angel is listening to him.

“I don’t understand,” Castiel’s voice says when the phone rings out. “Why do you want me to say my name?”

Despite his annoyance at his call ringing out, Dean can’t help but snicker to himself as his stomach swoops. There’s always just been something about Castiel and his innocence that gets under Dean’s skin. What is it about Castiel? Why can he –

Right. Definitely not going there. Just because he told the guy he loved him doesn’t mean that Dean’s keen to go there again, especially with Sam around. To banish his dangerous thoughts, he presses ‘call’ again.

“Dean?” This time, Castiel does answer. “Is everything okay?”

“I should be asking you that.” Dean pauses to swallow, coating his suddenly-dry throat with slick saliva. “How’s everything hanging?”

“I don’t think you have time for me to explain how physics operates on a cosmic level, Dean. Nor do I think that the subject of the four fundamental forces holds any sort of interest for you.”

Dean can’t hold back the snort that escapes from him. Sam looks at him curiously.

“No,” Dean chuckles. “No, I meant…how’s everything for you right now?”

“Oh.” There’s a pause. “It could be better. I suppose that I can’t complain, seeing as I haven’t been caught yet.”

“Caught?” Dean’s stomach swoops again, though in a far less pleasant way. “What the hell do you mean, caught? Is Crowley –”

“No. I have not seen Crowley. But the moment I departed from the crypt, Naomi sent a force of her angels to…subdue me.”

“Shit! You alright, Cas?”

Dean’s clenching the steering wheel again, mentally beating himself up. He should’ve insisted that Castiel stay with them! He shouldn’t have let Castiel go off on his own just after breaking free of mind control! Of _course_ Naomi was going to try and get Castiel back, especially when he has something as valuable as the angel tablet!

“I’m fine, Dean. I managed to escape and I have been successful at evading them thus far. All that matters is that I keep the angel tablet safe.”

“And yourself! Jesus, Cas, you’re more important than some piece of rock!”

“Nevertheless,” Castiel continues, as though Dean hadn’t said anything, “my goal is to keep the angel tablet from them. Dean, are you certain about the safety of this bunker?”

“Actually, that’s why I’m calling. Remembered that you wouldn’t be able to find it without us ‘cause it’s that well-warded.”

“Good.”

“Just come when I call, okay? We’ll take you from there and they won’t find you. Please, Cas. Don’t leave us – _me_ – hanging.”

Castiel doesn’t say anything for a moment.

“I promise that I’ll be there. And Dean, I lo –”

“See you then! Bye!”

Dean quickly hangs up and throws his phone on the seat next to him. Sam shoots him a curious look.

“What the hell, Dean?”

“Nothing.” Dean’s heart is still hammering after Castiel’s near confession. It’s not that he doesn’t want to hear it back – because dear God, he does. But he can’t. In an ideal situation, he never would have confessed those feelings to Castiel. They would’ve continued on being chummy buddies. Feelings are dangerous for a hunter, especially one who’s gotten himself tortured and killed as often as Dean has…not to mention everyone he so much as touches. He can’t do that to Castiel. The dude’s already died _three_ times because of his association with Dean. And with the situation they’re in now, if Dean allows himself to feel these feelings and then he gets fucked over…he _can’t_ let that happen. He just _can’t_. Not with someone he feels more strongly about than anyone else he can think of. Not with someone he – he _loves_ nearly as much as his own brother.

“Dean –”

“Sam.” Dean’s voice is low and sharp. “Drop. It.”

Sam seems to pick up on the dark, threatening plea in Dean’s voice because his mouth snaps shut and he looks away awkwardly.

“Want me to put some _Led Zep_ on? Or maybe some _Metallica_?” he says after a tense moment. Dean grins at him.

“ _Metallica_? Ah, I like how you think, little brother.”

* * *

 

Despite the drive to Lebanon being another four hours, Dean makes it in three. He’s spurred on by a combination of breaking every speed limit possible, exhausted longing for the magic of memory foam, a desire to sleep in a bed that’s actually his, and his need to make sure that Castiel is as safe as can be. The longer he delays getting back to the bunker, the longer Castiel has to dodge the winged dicks out for his blood – and if Castiel gets his ass caught because Dean had decided to take things slow and careful, Dean knows he’ll never be able to forgive himself.

Finally, at long last, they roll into Lebanon. Dean doesn’t think he’s ever been so happy to see a place in his whole life and he has to give himself a mental slap to avoid sagging in complacency. They’re not out of the woods yet; not until they’re safe at the bunker.

He punches Sam awake as they pull up outside a general store and Sam quickly shakes himself out of sleep, recognising the urgency of the situation. Now’s when they call Castiel, and they have to get this right. As soon as Castiel appears, he’s going to be followed by a bunch of assholes who are out for his blood; they’ve got to make sure that they get Castiel away from the angels or not only will the angel tablet be taken but Dean will lose his best friend. He’s certain that Naomi will never let Castiel go once she’s got him again – hell, she might even decide he’s not worth the effort and just kill him once he’s back in Heaven.

“You ready?” Dean says. Sam nods, every muscle in his body tense. Dean takes a deep breath, shoots a glance at the store sign – illuminated by dim street lamps – and then dials Castiel’s number. Thankfully, Castiel answers.

“Dean –”

“Cas, we’re at Ladow’s Market in Lebanon, Kansas. Get your feathered ass here pronto.”

Sam rolls his eyes as Dean hangs up but neither brother allows themselves to relax. They can’t be sure that the other angels haven’t picked up on the phone call – after all, Castiel had once said that even Dean’s head isn’t private – but that’s a risk they’ll have to take. It’s more secure than a prayer, in any case.

They’re startled two seconds later by the sudden appearance of Castiel outside the car, clutching the angel tablet tightly to his chest with a wild look in his eyes.

“C’mon, go, go!” Dean shouts at Castiel. The angel yanks the back door open and throws himself into the car and Dean doesn’t even wait for him to close the door before he’s pulling away from the kerb, tyres screeching. In his rear view mirror, he sees Castiel sag against the back of the seat in relief, his eyes closed.

“You okay, buddy?” Dean asks. Castiel nods, his eyes still closed, and this movement makes his dark, windswept hair spill over his forehead. Dean resolutely ignores the lurch in his belly.

“I – they were close,” Castiel pants. “Very close. Dean, if you hadn’t called when you did…”

Now Dean’s proud of his choice to speed on to Lebanon and cut their time, rather than actually stick to such trivial things as speed limits.

“Well, they don’t have you,” he says firmly. “They won’t get you, Cas. We’re gonna be –”

He’s prevented from finishing his sentence by a sudden flash of light in front of them and a high-pitched ringing. He slams on the brakes as the shrill noise reaches a crescendo and, too busy trying to protect his eyes and ears, he’s unprepared for the painful force that wrenches his door open and drags him out of the car.


	3. Chapter 3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Disclaimer: I don’t own SPN.
> 
> (So sick of Cas running back to the angels all the time when he knows they hate him, so have some BAMF Cas not giving a shit)
> 
> Thanks to Dean_The_princess_Winchester, SianaCastielNovak, AngelisticSatan, Ealdwic, Angelkrushnic and Darmys for your comments :)

 

 _‘Figures it’d be those freaking dicks,’_ Dean thinks dazedly from the ground, where he’s sprawled a short distance away from Baby. Lifting his spinning head, he makes out the image of a dark-haired man dressed in a smart suit removing Sam from the car – though, much to Dean’s smug pride, Sam isn’t making it easy for the angel and the celestial dick has to resort to using his mojo to get Sam out. Dean’s distracted the next minute by a second angel grabbing him by the shirt and hauling him into an upright position.

“Castiel!” Dick Two calls. “Get out of the car!”

Dick One drags a furiously struggling Sam over. Dean absently wonders why Sam is largely unaffected, whereas he feels like he’s going to pass out. Maybe the angels had to ‘mojo gas’ him more than Sam. Maybe they can tell that Sam’s not at full strength and went easy on him. Either way, Dean would absolutely love it if his head would stop spinning for two seconds so that he can at least try to fight back.

He’s nearly sick when Dick Two shakes him, making his head spin.

“Castiel!” Dick Two repeats.

 _‘Stay in the car, Cas!’_ Dean prays. _‘Don’t let ‘em get you!’_

To his chagrin, Castiel doesn’t listen. He opens the door and slides out of the Impala, his head up high and proud and defiant. Dean wants to smirk at the utter disrespect that Castiel is showing the other angels.

“Esper,” Castiel coldly addresses the angel holding Dean. His eyes slide to Dick One. “Ion.”

“You can’t run, Castiel.” Ion’s voice is almost sympathetic and if he hadn’t been trying to capture and deliver Castiel to be tortured again, Dean might have found him likeable. Well, as likeable as it’s possible for a dick angel to be. “Just give the angel tablet up. Surrender and come with us and we’ll let the Winchesters go.”

Castiel tilts his head.

“Why?” he says. Dean wants to snigger at the look on Ion’s face.

“Why? Why should you surrender? I just said that we would spare the Winchesters.”

“I know what you said. But why should I believe you? You work for Naomi. At the moment, I am not inclined to trust anybody even remotely associated with her.”

The cold fury dripping from Castiel’s voice makes Dean shiver and wonder just how much Naomi has fucked with his head, if he’s containing so much raw fury and hatred in that dorky little body of his.

“Castiel –”

“I’m only going to say this once. Release Sam and Dean and leave. Or else I won’t hesitate to kill you.”

Esper snorts loudly.

“‘You won’t hesitate to kill us’,” he repeats mockingly. “Like you didn’t hesitate to murder all of our other brothers and sisters in your mad quest for power.”

Ion shoots him a look.

“We’re trying to help you, Castiel,” Ion says almost reasonably. “We want you to be our brother again. We want to forgive you for your sins. We don’t want for you to have to keep choosing between us or these humans.”

He gives Sam a small shake. Sam scowls and tries to tug away, but Ion’s clearly using mojo to hold him in place because he can barely move.

“You mean that you want me to be brainwashed,” Castiel says flatly. “You want me to be tortured until I am forced to comply with Naomi’s wishes. You want me to be a shell of myself. How can you call yourself my brother and claim to care for me if that is what you desire?”

“Go Cas,” Dean mumbles as Ion’s face shifts into cool indifference.

“I don’t understand, Castiel. I don’t understand how you can choose these – these _humans_ over us every single time!”

“Just a hunch, but I’d say it’s ‘cause we don’t torture him and fuck with his head,” Dean pipes up. He almost regrets it when Esper’s hand moves to his throat and squeezes, making him nearly choke. Almost.

“I won’t say it again,” Castiel hisses. “Let them go.”

“Or what?” Esper challenges. “It’s you against us, Castiel. And we have your precious humans.”

As if waiting for a cue, Sam slams his elbow back into Ion’s gut. While it doesn’t hurt the angel, it certainly takes him by surprise and Sam takes advantage of this to wrench himself free and dive out of the way for Castiel, angel blade in one hand and tablet in the other, to bury his blade in Ion’s chest. Ion chokes, his eyes glowing bright blue and blood leaking from his mouth, and in the big light show from him croaking, Castiel meets Dean’s eyes and tosses his blade over. Dean expertly catches the blade, then turns and rams it through Esper’s throat and scrambles back to let his captor burn and die. He’s almost disappointed at the lack of a big fight; he’s been thirsty for angel blood ever since finding out that Castiel’s head has been screwed around with.

Silence falls on them. Dean’s once again sprawled on the ground, while Sam is doubled over and panting and Castiel is surveying their surroundings with a look of detached shock.

“Hey, Cas,” Dean grins. It’s slightly disorienting to watch the angel, who’s upside down in Dean’s field of view, cross over and crouch over Dean, who just grins wider.

“Hello, Dean,” Castiel murmurs. He reaches out, almost as though he’s going to touch Dean’s face, but at the last minute his hand changes course and he gently pries his blade out of Dean’s hand. Dean tries to quash his disappointment.

 _‘This is good,’_ he reminds himself. If Castiel isn’t being overly affectionate then it’ll be easier for him to suppress his feelings and keep the angel safe. So why does he feel a pit in his belly at the thought of doing that?

“We should go,” Castiel says as he straightens up. “This won’t remain unnoticed for long. Naomi will soon send more angels to find me and they won’t be so lenient or easily tricked.”

“What do we do about them?” Sam gestures to the corpses of Esper and Ion. “We can’t just leave them here. If she finds them, she’ll know the general location of the bunker.”

Castiel looks at the tablet he’s holding and then back up at Sam and Dean reluctantly.

“I…can dispose of them,” he says slowly. “But taking the tablet will make that more difficult. I would have to make several trips as I wouldn’t be able to transport both corpses together…not to mention if I was captured…”

Dean sighs loudly and holds out a hand.

“Hand it over,” he says. “I’ll hold it ‘til you get back.”

Castiel narrows his eyes.

“I don’t know.”

“Dude, you don’t trust me?” Dean can’t deny that this stings something bad.

“It isn’t that I don’t trust you. I trust you with my life, Dean. But the tablet…it’s telling me that I can’t entrust it to anybody else. I have to be the one to protect it.”

“And if you get yourself caught ‘cause you were too stubborn to trust me and Sam? You really think that hunk of rock’ll love you so much then?”

Castiel’s mouth twists. A moment later, he grudgingly holds out the tablet and Dean quickly snatches it before the angel can change his mind. Castiel pauses, then blinks several times.

“I will be back momentarily,” he says, stooping to grab the bodies of Esper and Ion’s vessels. Then he disappears. Sam and Dean only have enough time to exchange raised eyebrows before Castiel’s back, looking more like a drowned rat than anything else.

“Uh…” Dean says dumbly. “The hell did you go?”

Castiel’s lips twitch and he’s suddenly completely dry, though no longer looking windswept like he had been when meeting them outside Ladow’s Market. Dean silently mourns the loss of ‘Sex Hair Cas’.

“I deposited the bodies at the bottom of the Mariana Trench,” Castiel says. “The lowest point on Earth above the crust. I would have liked to take them into space but I had no time.”

“You can fly anywhere instantly…and you didn’t have time?” Sam says incredulously. Castiel shoots him an annoyed look.

“Flying is not instantaneous. It may seem that way to you but your perception of time is rather limited when compared to an angel’s. Now, I can provide you with a full explanation of celestial travel through space and time, or we can get to this bunker and be safe from further attacks.”

 _‘When’d he get so snarky?’_ Dean wonders as they head to Baby. Before he gets in, Dean holds out the tablet to Castiel.

“You want this back?” he says. Castiel reaches out, then shakes his head and withdraws.

“No. The voice telling me to protect it…it’s gone. I don’t feel that – that _distrust_ towards everybody else anymore. I know that – that you are perfectly capable of protecting it. I don’t want anything to do with anything that takes my free will from me – be it Naomi, or the tablet, or anything else. I will hide it when we get to the bunker and then I won’t touch it.”

The look of exhausted relief on Castiel’s face makes Dean want to kiss him. Instead, he clears his throat and opens the back door of the car for Castiel.

“Get in, then,” Dean says. “Once we get back to the bunker, we’ll find a nice warded box for this thing, then you can shove it down the side of some desk and forget about it.”

Castiel actually smiles at that.

“Thank you, Dean. You’re always so kind to me.”

Dean snorts darkly.

“Always?” he mutters. He wants to launch into a self-loathing speech but then he remembers that there are angels out there looking for Castiel, so he jabs a finger at the car. “Get in before they get here.”

Castiel gives him one of those patented ‘you’re a dumb shit but I like you anyway’ looks but complies. Dean resolutely ignores Sam’s expression as he slips into the driver’s seat and starts the car.

It only takes them five minutes to reach the concrete building that sits above the bunker, though Dean isn’t quite sure why it sits there – maybe to make sure that the Men of Letters didn’t forget where it was if they ever had a brain fart. He hands Sam the bunker key to unlock the garage – grateful that he doesn’t have to keep track of a bunch of keys, because his Winchester luck would definitely kick in at that point – and reverses Baby into the garage once it’s open. Sam closes it after them.

“Home, sweet home,” Dean says chirpily, hoping that Sam and Cas can’t see that most of his cheery demeanour is being put on. “I mean, apart from Baby. Nothing can replace this girl.”

He pats the hood fondly. Castiel watches him, a soft look in his eyes.

“I’ll go find a warded box,” Sam says, tossing the key back to Dean. “You can show Cas around the place. Or talk. Or just do whatever it is you guys do.”

Dean doesn’t like the smirk on Sam’s face. He hands the tablet over with a glare and, with one final smug smile, heads off into the main bunker, leaving Dean and Castiel alone. Dean clears his throat.

“So…welcome to the Batcave,” he says brightly, spreading his arms. Castiel doesn’t smile but he does come close.

“Thank you for your hospitality. You really are kind, Dean. No matter what self-deprecating thoughts lurk in your mind –”

“Dude, can you not?” Dean interrupts. “I’m not kind. I’ve used you for years. I kept telling you to trust me, then turned around and didn’t do the same with your plan to pop Purgatory, even if it _was_ a shit plan. I didn’t give a fuck when you were crazy after healing Sam – I just dumped you with a demon in a mental ward. And I should’ve figured that something was up with you when you got outta Purgatory. I didn’t even think to ask who got you out.”

“Dean, stop. You were right not to trust my plan to open Purgatory. It led to the Leviathans being freed, which then led to your year of torment in Purgatory and to me killing Samandriel and almost killing you.”

“Not that you wanted to! And I shouldn’t’ve pushed you away like I did. Sure, I could’ve kept telling you not to do it, but I pretty much turned my back and said ‘Fuck you’. After _everything_ you’d done for us.”

Dean’s got Castiel backed up against Baby now, waving his hands wildly to make his point.

“You don’t know that Naomi wouldn’t’ve gotten her claws into you anyway, Cas. And you did the best you could at the time. Does that make it right? No! But your heart was in the right place. So quit blaming yourself!”

Castiel gives him a sad smile.

“I don’t know how you can stand to be around me, after everything I’ve done. I renounced you and Sam and Bobby as my family. I broke the wall in Sam’s mind. I caused you a year of anguish in Purgatory by making you search for me.”

“You didn’t ‘make’ me do anything. Dammit, Cas, why the hell can’t you accept that I freaking care about you?”

“I don’t see why you would care, Dean. All I do is break everything.”

“So do I! And I _do_ care. So freaking get used to it, buddy.”

Castiel looks down.

“You said that you love me, Dean. In the crypt. Your words…they broke through Naomi’s brainwashing.”

He looks back up, scorching blue eyes meeting Dean’s green ones.

“Dean. You have to know that I l –”

“No!” Dean stumbles back, holding up a hand. Castiel falls silent. “Cas, you can’t – I can’t – I’m not doing this!”

He turns and flees the garage, wishing that he didn’t have to see the hurt in Castiel’s eyes. It’s better this way. They’ve been through too much crap to function healthily. Dean would rather keep Castiel at arm’s length for the rest of his life if it means not risking this close friendship between them.

* * *

 

“ _What_?”

This is probably the most pissed Dean has seen Castiel in a long time. Though to be fair, he’d likely have reacted the same way if he’d been told what he and Sam had just told Castiel.

“Dude, it’s the safest place on Earth,” he says. “You said yourself that Naomi’s still gonna be looking for you. The minute you leave, she’s gonna sic her attack angels on you.”

“So you expect me to stay here, locked up like a caged bird?”

“You’re not a caged bird –”

“I cannot leave. Therefore, I am caged. A large, cosy, protected cage – but still a cage.”

“That’s not it at all, Cas,” Sam interjects, clearly trying to use his amazing, girly powers of reasoning. “We just don’t want you to go through that torture again.”

“And you think I do?” Castiel says stonily. Though he understands where Castiel is coming from, Dean can’t help but feel irritated that the angel’s behaving like a whiny little bitch about it.

“We all gotta do shit we don’t wanna do, Cas,” he barks. “Look, I get it. I wouldn’t wanna be locked up either. But until this whole Naomi shit blows over, this is the safest place for you.”

“You’re our best friend, Cas,” Sam says. “We don’t wanna lose you to those dicks again.”

Castiel glowers down at his untouched plate of steak, vegetables and potatoes. A sliver of resentment bubbles in Dean’s stomach. He knows the angel doesn’t _have_ to eat but the asshole could at least pretend to indulge his efforts in the kitchen!

“Fine,” Castiel mutters. “If I’m to be a prisoner here then I think I’ll go and translate some books. I may as well make myself useful. One cell is as good as another, I suppose.”

Instead of standing up and walking away like a normal person, Castiel flaps off. Dean hears him somewhere in the bunker a moment later – in the main room slash library, if his volume and direction are any indication. Dean attempts to not scowl at his plate, but it’s a close call.

“What’s up with Cas?” Sam says, perplexed. “He was sorta fine when we got here. Then you stormed out of the garage and he came out looking all poker-faced.”

“Nothing,” Dean mutters. “Nothing at all.”


	4. Chapter 4

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Disclaimer: I don’t own SPN.
> 
> I wasn’t sure about this chapter, since it’s just a recap of a canon case, but there is some Destiel in here and the next one so it’s progress.
> 
> Thanks to Darmys, Dean_The_princess_Winchester, AngelisticSatan, tfw_cas, Ealdwic, SophiaWhoLock and PhoenixFeather for your comments :)

“So, what are we looking at again?” Sam says as they pull up outside the sheriff station. In response, Dean reaches into the back seat to grab a newspaper, which he hands to Sam. “‘Two young women found near the freeway with their throats ripped out’.”

“Sounds vampy to me.”

“Yeah, maybe.”

Dean glances at Sam out of the corner of his eye, his vow to himself to grill Sam about the effects of the first trial fresh in his mind.

“Listen,” he says. “If you wanna take a knee on this one – y’know, if you’re not feeling up to it…”

“What?” Sam gives Dean an odd look. Dean sighs.

“You know, the trials? What Cas said you got that he can’t cure –”

“Which means what, exactly?”

“Well, I dunno. You tell me. Are you okay?”

“I’m fine,” Sam says stubbornly. “Are _you_ okay?”

Dean blinks.

“ _Me_?”

“Yeah. I mean…Cas hasn’t spoken to you for two days. Ever since we brought him back to the bunker.”

“So? What’s that got to do with anything?”

Sam rolls his eyes.

“You were so keen to get Cas to come back to the bunker, and he’d only do something like that for you…and now you’re barely speaking to each other. Something happened in that garage, Dean. What the hell’s going on with you two?”

“You really wanna have this talk?” Dean says. “Okay, sure. Why don’t I go get some, uh, herbal tea? And you can find some cowboy junkies on the dial and we’ll just talk it out.”

Sam bitchfaces him and gets out of the car.

“Eat me, Dean,” he says snarkily, slamming the car door. But as Sam heads to the station, Dean can’t help but pull his phone out of his pocket and dial Castiel’s number.

“Hello, Dean.” Castiel delivers this line neutrally but Dean feels like there’s something missing from it. It just sounds so…flat. Blank. Devoid of any affection it might have previously held.

“Hey, Cas,” he tries to say cheerfully, but he knows he misses that mark by a long shot.

“What do you want? I’m busy.”

“What, with translating old books like a little old librarian?” Dean says before he can help himself. The silence that follows is deafening. “Sorry.”

“Don’t apologise,” Castiel said coolly. “After all, I am only staying here at your request, so please continue with those insults that you call jokes. Forgive me for wanting to keep my mind occupied.”

Dean winces. Man, Castiel is _pissed_.

“Look, man, I’d love nothing more than for you to tag along,” he says almost pleadingly. “But I don’t want Naomi getting her hands on you and fucking you up again. ‘S not like I’m asking you to stay there all the time for shits and giggles. So it’d be really nice if you could quit with the attitude, when I’m just tryin’ to keep you alive.”

Castiel heaves a long, deep sigh.

“You’re right. My apologies, Dean. I just…I hate feeling useless. Like a burden. I can’t do anything to help you because of my own past foolishness, which has resulted in me becoming wanted by Heaven. I should not be taking my anger out on you.”

“Hey, I get it,” Dean says placatingly. “Trust me, I’d be going stir crazy in your position.”

“No, you wouldn’t. If you were in my position then you would not allow yourself to be bound by such a ‘trivial request’ and you’d be out hunting anyway.”

Dean snorts. Then he snorts again, because who else has a guardian angel that knows all about their bad habits?

“True. Anyway, I gotta go. Just wanted to see how you were goin’ back there.”

“I’m fine. Dean…I want to talk to you. I keep trying to tell you about my feelings for you but –”

“That can’t happen,” Dean interrupts. “Trust me, Cas. I’m the reason all this shit is happening to you. And anyway, you wouldn’t wanna tie yourself to some dumb schmuck like me.”

“Dean, I –”

“Gotta go – talk to ya later – see ya, Cas.”

Dean can’t hang up quick enough before heading into the station to meet Sam inside, who’s already talking to the sheriff. Sam turns when he hears Dean’s footsteps.

“And here’s my partner,” he says, nodding at Dean and flipping his FBI ID open. Dean does the same thing.

“FBI?” The sheriff squints at their badges. “You’re here about the Lady Killer Murders, aren’t you?”

Sam and Dean exchange a look.

“The Lady Killer Murders?” Sam says slowly.

“Yep. Coined it myself.”

Dean wants to roll his eyes at how pleased the sheriff looks with himself.

“Congratulations. What can you tell us?”

Leading them back to his desk, the sheriff tells them that both women were under the age of twenty one and found drained of blood; the ‘kicker’, as he describes it. It’s when he pulls out CCTV footage of a place called Fuller’s Point, a place that they keep surveillance on for acting as a magnet for horny teenagers, that shit gets real.

 _‘You gotta be kidding me,’_ Dean thinks, watching the three teenagers shoot and decapitate the guy that attacks the car to get to the two of them that had been inside – clearly acting as bait, if their actions are any indication. He recognises one of the teens.

Krissy Chambers.

* * *

 

After ordering the sheriff to cancel the A.P.B. he put on the teenagers, Sam and Dean thank him for his time and leave.

“You remember Krissy Chambers?” Dean says when they get to the Impala. Sam frowns.

“Uh, yeah…the vetala case, right? They were working that truck stop by the freeway. She and her dad helped us shut ‘em down.”

“Right, and then he promised to go civilian so she wouldn’t grow up to be a hunter. Well, guess who the star of this snuff film is?”

Sam’s eyes widen.

“Come on,” he scoffs. Then he shakes his head. “Well, maybe he doesn’t know she’s doing this.”

“What, sneaking out in the middle of the night to go hunt monsters with the Apple Dumpling gang? Is that what kids are doing for kicks these days?”

“Okay. Then maybe he knows and he’s helping her out.”

Dean just rolls his eyes and tells Sam to get in the car. As he starts the Impala and drives, he doesn’t know why he’s taking this so personally. It shouldn’t be any of his business, yet he finds himself strangely invested in this. But why? Is it because he doesn’t want any more kids to be raised like he and Sam were with their own dad? Or is it because he’s too familiar with broken promises?

He closes his eyes to dispel the images of Castiel, wondering why his mind is in such a ‘chick’ mood today. He gives it the mental middle finger, so it replies with images of windswept, sex hair Castiel that he can’t get rid of. And then these images start to get even dirtier.

 _‘Fuck my life,’_ he grumbles, though at the same time he’s curious about whether Cas’ dick is really that big and if it would really feel that good fucking his mouth.

* * *

 

They find Krissy holed up in a hotel room with a laptop next to her and a gun in her hand, pointed right at them. She’s less than happy to see the two of them, only answering their question about her father with a curt, “Dead,” before telling them to clear off and let ‘us’ handle ‘this’.

“Us?” Sam says.

“This?” Dean adds.

Krissy ignores their questions until she’s got her laptop again, at which point she just says, “Vampire.”

On the laptop screen, they watch as the other two teenagers from the CCTV footage sneak into the room where a terrified girl is tied up and are quickly detected by the vampire. So naturally, Sam and Dean decide to go and help them, and as soon as they burst into the hotel room, the vampire hisses at them and throws himself out the second storey window, heading for a blue van nearby.

“I got him!”

Krissy sprints out of the room, so Dean follows her to make sure that she doesn’t get herself killed. She easily takes down the begging vampire – a sight Dean has only seen a handful of times, with those who didn’t know they were vampires or didn’t want to hurt anyone – with darts full of dead man’s blood, then tells Dean to back off when he takes out his machete.

“This isn’t your kill!” she snaps as the other teenage girl skids to a halt next to them. Teen Girl then explains that the vampire broke into her house three months ago and killed her family, which the vampire vehemently denies until Teen Girl lops his head off.

It’s at that moment that Sam arrives with Teen Boy, who Krissy says is called Aidan, while Teen Girl is Josephine. Krissy is initially hostile when Dean pulls her aside to explain herself but then she looks him defiantly in the eye and tells him everything: how she and her father got out for a few months, before she came home to find his throat ripped out by a vampire, and then how a hunter named Victor found her and took her in. She also tells Dean how Josephine and Aidan also lost their families to vampires – all from the same nest, they’re sure – and how Victor is training them all to get revenge.

It’s a straightforward enough story, and Dean knows that something like this can happen to any poor kid whose family is killed by monsters before they encounter a hunter kind enough – or messed up enough – to take them in. In fact, it’s how a lot of young hunters get their start in the life. But something about this seems off. He just can’t put his finger on it.

* * *

 

‘Victor’ turns out to be Victor Rogers, a hunter they helped to take down a rougarou in Spokane years ago. Dean’s surprised to see how ‘normal’ Victor treats the teens, telling Josephine to get on to bed for her trig test in the morning and scolding Aidan for not cleaning his room, and resentment starts to bubble inside him towards his own father. Why couldn’t John have done this with him and Sam? Dean knows that they had to have been raised as hunters; there’s no way they would have survived the Apocalypse otherwise, and he’s always grateful to John for giving them the skills they need even today. But Krissy, Josephine and Aidan seem to be pretty well-trained for amateurs in this ‘balancing act’ life, so what had stopped John from simply moving house to get away from the memories and giving Sam and Dean a mix of both lives?

Oh, right. Alcohol and too much resentment and vengeful tendencies. Story of Dean’s life.

“So, how does this work?” Dean says when he, Sam and Victor are sitting in the living room. “What, after soccer practice and – and bake sale, they chop vampires’ heads off?”

Victor shrugs nonchalantly.

“Well, yeah. I think a balanced approach is best, don’t you?”

“They’re kids! They shouldn’t be hunting at _all_. You gotta break this up right now.”

Dean half-expects Victor to get pissed off at him. Instead, the man looks calm as all hell, though his eyes do glint dangerously.

“When I found them, they were lost…confused…angry. I gave them family and purpose. And you want to take all that away? Why?”

“So they don’t get killed,” Sam says as though this should be obvious. It’s then that Victor starts to harp on about his plan to train ‘the next generation of hunters’ to be better – insulting Garth, Bobby and ‘other rougarou hunter they helped’ Martin in the process – and explains just how the teens he’s taken in are going to be better than someone ‘dropped on his head when he was a baby’, a ‘barely functional alcoholic’ and an ‘insane’ guy. He’s just lucky that Dean doesn’t want to risk pissing off the Junior X-Men, or else he’d be flat on the floor for his comment about Bobby.

* * *

 

After a bit of investigating – including questioning the tied-up woman from the motel, who claims that the vamp they’d killed hadn’t been the one to kidnap her – Sam and Dean are sufficiently suspicious of Victor and this supposed vampire nest. Their suspicions are only compounded when Victor pulls the kids out of school for a hunt with a dodgy surveillance photo lacking a time stamp, and so Dean heads to a place called ‘Conway Springs Lodge’, which the woman’s real kidnapper had taken a brochure for, while Sam stays with Victor to track down the driver of the blue van that had been parked outside the hotel the teenagers had killed the other vampire in and which has been parked outside Victor’s house for a while now.

Dean’s on his guard when he arrives at the lodge, machete in one hand and flashlight in the other. He sneaks up to the building and forces his way in, careful to make as little sound as possible in the process, and he’s overly aware of how loud his footsteps are on the creaking wooden boards. He winces; if they’re loud to him, he’d bet his best shotgun that any vamps around can hear him as well.

He’s proven right a moment later. However, he isn’t jumped by a bloodthirsty vampire wanting to tear his throat out; instead, the vampire he finds is a poor woman who’s cowering on a bottom bunk bed, and who shrieks and physically tries to get away from the bright light of his flashlight.

“What’s happening to me?” she cries when her second set of teeth descend past her gums. Dean frowns. This isn’t the reaction of a killer vampire who’s out for blood. But he can’t just let his guard down around a monster, so he tugs her off the bed and holds his machete to her neck.

“That’s never happened to you before?” he says. The girl wildly shakes her head, the machete slicing a thin line of red across her throat as she does so.

“No! There’s – there’s something wrong with me! That guy – he did something to me!”

“What guy?”

“I don’t know! This guy in a blue van, he – he grabbed me and took me here!” She doubles over, groaning. “My stomach…it hurts so much!”

It’s then that Krissy, Josephine and Aidan arrive, guns blazing – or, more accurately – machetes out.

“Dean?” Krissy hisses. “Why are you with the vamp that killed my dad?”

Dean briefly wonders if this is how bloodthirsty and blind he used to be. He’s suddenly vividly reminded of Gordon Walker and has to shake his head to dispel the image of that psychopath.

“You’re barking up the wrong tree,” he says. “She didn’t kill your pops.”

“I don’t want to hurt you, Dean.” Krissy’s eyes narrow. “But I will if you don’t move.”

Dean doesn’t know how he’s going to convince these three enraged teens that the vampire is innocent but he’s going to give it his best shot. He’s met Lenore and he’s met Benny; he’s also met Gordon and Martin. He knows now that not all monsters _are_ monsters.

“Listen to me, Krissy. She’s innocent.”

“How would you know that?” Josephine spits.

“She’s fresh made – maybe a day or two. But Krissy’s dad was killed months ago. And the vamp we killed last night? Why would he swear he didn’t do it?”

“Uh, because he was a liar?” Aidan says.

“Vamps don’t beg for their lives; they attack. Look, last time I’m gonna ask you nicely. Take the damn guns off me, or somebody’s gonna get hurt.”

When Aidan simply snorts, Dean makes a show of quickly and efficiently disarming him, dropping his weapons on the floor. But the teens still aren’t having any of it.

“So, let’s say this isn’t the vamp who killed my dad,” Krissy says. “She’s still a monster. She still deserves to die.”

It’s when he reveals that there’s a cure for vampirism and the teens uncaringly ask why they should help her that Dean finally realises just why this war between monsters and humans keeps dragging on. Sure, the monsters who kill deserve to die. But the hunters really aren’t any better. They’re all blinded by their hatred and rage, convinced that they have to kill every Jack and Jill who is anything less than pure human.

But not all monsters are beasts, are they? After all, there’s Castiel. He’s not human, no matter how much he might look like one on the surface. But he’s not a monster. He’s not like the other winged dicks. Heck, if he was, Dean wouldn’t…he wouldn’t have fallen for the nerdy guy.


	5. Chapter 5

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Disclaimer: I don’t own SPN.
> 
> Thanks to Phoenixfeather, Darmys, LokiNeedsHugs1031, carpentertje, Dean_The_princess_Winchester and tfw_cas for your comments :)

 

After successfully convincing the teens not to kill the poor girl, Dean takes them all back to Victor’s house – only to find his little brother tied to a chair, with Victor and the vamp from the blue van standing nearby. Dean’s heart aches for Krissy, Josephine and Aidan when they learn that Victor had been behind their families being killed the whole time; using the vampire – Seth – to kill their families, then turning new vampires for them to kill while convincing them that these vamps had murdered their families. Dean knows what it’s like for a role model like Victor – who had taken them in, cared for them and trained them – to have been the one holding the proverbial knife in the back the whole time.

“Come with me,” Victor implores, tossing his gun onto the couch. “We can get past this.”

Only an idiot would have gone with Victor after his admission of orchestrating their families’ deaths, just so that he could have a family again after his wife and kids had fallen victim to a wendigo. Luckily, Dean thinks, Krissy and her friends aren’t idiots.

“That is unfortunate,” Victor says gravely when the three teens exchange a look and Krissy shakes her head. With a side look at Seth, the duo of douchebags spring into action; Victor jumps away, while Seth pounces on Aidan and wraps an arm around his throat. Dean’s got his gun out in a heartbeat.

“Aidan!” Krissy screams as Seth hisses, his teeth extending to graze Aidan’s ear.

“We’re leaving.” Victor’s looking right at the three teens when he says this but Krissy isn’t taking this lying down. Dean has to admit that he admires her bravery in stepping in front of Victor to block his way – though whether this is bravery or recklessness, he isn’t sure. Maybe a bit of both. After all, it’s something he’d have done.

“That’s not happening,” Krissy growls. Victor looks down at her, a clear plea in his eyes.

“I taught you everything you know. Don’t make me hurt you.”

“Not everything, Victor.”

At Krissy’s signal, Josephine pulls out her knife and stabs at Victor but he easily dodges her attack. Krissy takes advantage of everyone else being occupied with the fight going on to whip out a gun and take Seth down with a dead man’s blood dart to the eye, then one to the chest, successfully removing the threat of Aidan being harmed from the equation. Having taken down Josephine, Victor turns to face Krissy but she’s already got a gun out and aimed at him. Dean knows that now is the time to step in.

“Krissy, don’t,” he says warningly, taking a step towards her. Krissy’s face tightens.

“If we want revenge for our families’ deaths, he gives it to us!” she spits, her voice shaking with unbridled fury. Dean’s struck by how much of himself he can see in Krissy, including just how much anger and vengeance she’s clinging on to. Hindsight is twenty-twenty, and if Dean could go back and tell his past self to stop being an idiot then he would; but since he can’t, he can do the next best thing and stop Krissy from going down that road.

“We don’t kill people,” he says. “ _You_ don’t kill people.”

“He’s not a person.” Krissy’s voice shakes. “He’s a monster.”

Dean’s once again reminded of Gordon Walker; how the guy was human (until his demise), yet was worse and more hateful than most of the monsters Dean’s killed. While he can’t deny that he’d felt satisfaction at Gordon’s death, he had been more accustomed to the feeling of revenge than Krissy is; if Krissy gets a taste for vengeance now, like Gordon had when his sister had been turned, Dean isn’t sure anybody will be able to turn her away from that path. What will happen if her blind rage extends to all vampires and hunters who take kids in? What if she becomes another Gordon?

“Krissy, this ends bad no matter what we do,” Sam speaks up. Krissy just positions her gun right at Victor’s head, who’s fallen on his knees before her.

“Exactly.”

She cocks her gun. Dean lowers his and carefully approaches her.

“Krissy, don’t,” he says in a quiet but firm voice. Krissy ignores him.

“This is for my dad.”

She pulls the trigger and Dean prepares for brains splattering…but nothing happens.

“For Josephine’s family.”

Krissy pulls the trigger again. Dean realises that there’s no ammo in the gun.

“For Aidan.”

Dean’s honestly impressed with Krissy. The temptation to not empty her gun and just blow his brains out must have been overwhelming, yet she had resisted. He’s not sure if he’d been able to make the same choice if faced with the person who’d killed Sam.

 _‘Or Cas,’_ his mind supplies. Dean resolutely ignores it.

“For me.”

Krissy pulls the trigger one last time. Victor has become less and less composed with each dry shot and when Krissy takes the four bullets she hadn’t fired out of her pocket and drops them in front of him, he finally breaks down into choking sobs. Dean wants to feel sorry for the guy but really, it’s his own fault for masterminding the deaths of these teens’ families. When Krissy turns to look at Dean, he gives her an approving nod.

“So we’re just gonna let him live?” Aidan says incredulously. Krissy turns to look at him.

“Yeah,” she says in an almost vindictive voice. “All alone, with himself. No family. No friends. You ask me, that’s not much of anything.” She turns back to Dean. “Now let’s save that girl.”

After what happens next, Dean wants to kick himself for not even being prepared. Under the cover of bawling his eyes out, Victor yanks a gun from his sock holster and it’s only Josephine’s alarmed cry that alerts everybody else to this. But before anybody can do anything, Victor’s holding the gun to his head and then pulls the trigger. Dean knows that he should feel something at this, especially seeing Victor lying in a pool of blood with glassy, open eyes…but he doesn’t feel anything. Not even a smidgen. He’s not sure if this is worrying or not but he’s pretty sure it should be.

* * *

 

The events after Victor’s death pass almost too quickly. Josephine and Aidan usher the poor vampire inside and wrap her in a blanket, while Krissy prepares a glass of vampire cure under Dean’s instruction and then gives it to Josephine.

“‘M proud of you,” Dean says once Krissy’s standing with him and Sam. Krissy just rolls her eyes and threatens to punch him. “So, how’s she doing?”

Krissy looks over her shoulder at the vampire.

“Better now,” she says softly. She turns back when Sam makes a sudden noise of remembrance and when he carefully pulls out a silver necklace and passes it to her, her eyes mist over.

“I think this is yours,” Sam says. Dean’s expecting Krissy to make a sarcastic thank you but, to his surprise, her thanks is entirely heartfelt. He wants to grumble. Stupid kids and their stupid sass with him…but at the same time, it warms his heart. Sam’s always had a way with teens, just like Dean’s got a strange way with kids.

“Whenever you’re ready, we’ll be in the car,” Dean informs her once Sam’s left to go wait in Baby. Krissy frowns at him.

“What’re you talking about?”

Dean reminds her of the aunt in Cincinnati that she’d told him about earlier but Krissy just shakes her head.

“Look, I hate how we were put together but…I can’t deny that it feels right.” Krissy looks over her shoulder again. “And why should I let Victor ruin that too?”

Dean smirks at her.

“So, what you’re saying is that you like that boy over there and you wanna stay?”

His smirk widens when Krissy just splutters denials and claims about Aidan being like her brother, but it turns to a genuine smile when Krissy says that Josephine will be an adult soon and they’ll have each other for support and guidance no matter what. He loves Sam more than anything else in the world – even his own soul – but he can’t help but admit that he’d have loved to have a group like this when he was her age. Hunting’s a freaking rough job but having this kind of support…it would’ve made stuff so much easier.

“What about hunting?” he says. If Krissy, Josephine and Aidan plan to hunt then he’s going to drag her to her aunt’s house, no matter how much she kicks and screams. But her response satisfies him.

“We won’t go looking for it. But if any monsters show up around here, they better look out.”

It’s a good compromise, and far more than Dean was expecting to get out of her. His surprise must show on his face because Krissy’s the one smirking now.

“Thought I was gonna have to fight you way more on that,” she says smugly.

“Well, you’re really not a kid anymore,” Dean admits. “You can make your own decisions.”

Their goodbye after that is relatively straightforward. Krissy slips in one more insult about Dean’s age, before he tells her that he’s going to have Garth check in on them every now and then. After cheerfully informing a twitchy Aidan that it’s Krissy herself he has to watch out for if he ever hurts her, not Dean, the hunter takes one last look around and then leaves.

* * *

 

The closer to the bunker they draw, the more nervous Dean grows. While he’d hated Castiel just blanking him out and refusing to talk to him, it had been easier in a way; he hadn’t had to worry about slipping up with his stupid feelings and letting something else slip. But now Castiel is going to want to talk to him. About _feelings_. And dammit, he can’t do it!

He just wishes Castiel would freaking understand _why_ Dean’s having a crisis. It’s not _just_ Dean and his thing about not letting anyone that close. He’s only ever told two people in his entire life that he loves them: Mary, when he had been an innocent, happy kid; and Sam, when he’d found his voice after going mute for months after Mary’s death, and Sam doesn’t even remember that since he was a baby at the time. Those are the only two times in his life that he’s ever said those words, unless he’s said them to John when he was really young and can’t remember. And he’d definitely felt that way about Bobby – still does – but Bobby’s just one of those people that you insult good-naturedly to show your love and affection. Telling Bobby that he loved him would have been _way_ more trouble than it was worth, especially with his issues around those words in the first place.

So saying them to Castiel…it’s such a big deal. The only other person he’s loved anywhere _near_ this much had been Cassie – and he’d told her that he loved her by spilling the secret about the supernatural, after which he’d promptly been dumped and kicked out. That rejection has been one of the most profound in his whole life and he’s never fully recovered from it; it’s partly why he couldn’t love Lisa like she’d deserved, even with the dynamic between them not really being romantic. Lisa had wanted a person for support and a father for Ben; Dean had needed someone to just make him not feel so alone. There had been love, sure, but it hadn’t really been romantic and Dean hadn’t allowed it to be as strong as it could have been. And he’d been right, hadn’t he? Lisa and Ben had ended up kidnapped by demons, then Lisa had nearly died after her possession.

Rationally, he knows that Castiel won’t reject him. After all, the guy’s been trying to say the damn words back! But Dean’s pretty sure that it’s the fact that Castiel feels the same way that’s more terrifying than rejection. As soon as Castiel says it, it’s all out there in the open. If Dean fucks it up, he’ll hurt Castiel – which he does _not_ want to do. And if it’s out there for the world to see, it’s _there_. Enemies can _use_ it. If Dean puts his heart out there, he can guarantee that a monster will take advantage of that and hurt Castiel to get to him. He _can’t_ let that happen.

These thoughts keep him occupied until they’re pulling into the bunker’s garage and Dean knows that he can’t put it off any longer. He just prays that Castiel has the decency to wait until Sam’s gone for them to have this talk, because the only thing that can make this worse is if his baby brother is there to hear it all.

Thankfully, luck is on his side. Castiel’s in the main room when they enter and he looks up from his translation of an old, crumbly book and regards them with a look of affection.

“Sam. Dean,” he says in his gravelly voice. Sam beams at him, while Dean just gives him a nervous little mouth twitch.

“Hey, Cas!” Sam says brightly. “Hope you’re not bored out of your mind here.”

“While I am not…‘bored out of my mind’…I must admit that it can get rather tedious down here,” Castiel admits slowly. Dean stomach lurches with guilt. He knows that this is the safest place for Castiel but he still can’t help but feel that it’s his fault that the angel is cooped up here. When Castiel gives him a certain look, he knows that this talk is going to happen no matter what.

“Hey, go get us something for dinner,” he says to Sam. “Maybe some pizza or something.”

“Why can’t you?” Sam complains. When Dean wordlessly tosses the keys to Baby to him, his eyebrows shoot up; and then he takes one look between Dean and Castiel and seems to come to the right conclusion. “Oh…I mean, sure! Pizza it is. And I’ll – I’ll get some stuff for the week as well, so we don’t have an empty fridge.”

Sam can’t get out of there quick enough. While embarrassment curls in Dean’s stomach, he also can’t help but feel gratitude towards his little brother’s perceptiveness and he vows to do something nice for the little bitch at some point. Maybe he’ll indulge him in a salad without complaining for once.

An awkward silence falls on the two men left. It’s Dean who breaks it.

“So!” he says overenthusiastically. “Makin’ any headway with those translations?”

Castiel gives him a Look.

“Dean, I highly doubt that you sincerely care about my translations,” he says dryly. “If you really did, you would not have removed Sam from the bunker.”

Dean’s stomach churns.

“I – Cas –”

“Why can’t you accept it, Dean? You uttered those very words to me and broke me free of Naomi’s control. Why can’t you allow me to say that I lo –”

“Don’t!” Dean says sharply. Cas falls silent, regarding Dean with a look of hurt, and Dean has to back away and pinch the bridge of his nose. “Just – don’t!”

“Dean –”

“I can’t, Cas!”

A cool mask slips over Castiel’s face. Dean wants to reach inside himself and pull out his own guts, because that has to hurt less than seeing this look on Castiel’s face. It had only been a few years since Castiel had been a cold, emotionless robot. And now he feels too much. Now he’s too human to be an angel, but he’s still an angel so he can’t be human.

“Did you really mean it, Dean?” Castiel says tonelessly. “Or did you merely say what you needed in order to free me from Naomi and prevent me from killing you while under her influence?”

Dean vehemently shakes his head and takes a step towards the angel.

“No! No way in Hell!” he swears. “You know me, Cas. Would I say something like that if I didn’t mean it?”

Castiel’s forehead crinkles.

“Of course not. My apologies, Dean. But why –?”

“It’s _because_ I mean it, Cas!” Deans thoughts are flying out of his mouth with no filter whatsoever, but he’s long past the point of caring. “You know who I’ve said that to? Mom and Sam! When I was a _kid_! And look what’s happened to both of them!”

“Dean –”

Dean makes a funny hand wave.

“Just – Cas. Lemme talk. Please.”

Castiel nods his acquiescence, so Dean continues to vent.

“Everyone close to me ends up dead, Cas. Mom, Dad, Sam, Bobby…heck, even _you_! The monsters freaking know that Sam’s my weak spot! Why do you think they keep going after him? Why d’you think Crowley targeted Lisa and Ben when he wanted to get to me?”

Dean’s pacing now, nearly tearing his hair out in his fit. Castiel just stands there, watching him with his signature head tilt and frown.

“So I _can’t_. I can’t do that to you, Cas. I can’t let you get hurt ‘cause of me. You’ve seen what losing Sam does to me. If anything happens to you…Christ, Cas, Sam’s the most important person in the freaking universe to me, but you’re up there. So it’s not that I don’t feel that way – ‘cause I do – but Cas, I’m the worst person for you! I’m the reason Heaven hates you and I’m why you’re stuck here, and I’ve got so many issues that I’ll just drag you down with me –”

He’s cut off by Castiel’s slender fingers gripping his face tightly, but not painfully. Before Dean can say anything more, there are warm, chapped lips pressing to his, moving against his mouth in a clumsy but passionate kiss. He lets out a small whimper and grips fistfuls of Castiel’s trench coat as he reciprocates…but only for a moment. Once he realises what’s happening, he pushes away.

“Cas,” he whispers. “Please. I can’t. Not now.”

His stomach swoops when he realises that this is the closest he’s ever seen Castiel’s eyes. Now that he’s so close, he can make out the specks of pale blue amongst the deep azure, which add celestial depth to him and make him really look like the cosmic, timeless being he is.

“I understand, Dean.” Castiel’s voice is a quiet rumble. “I will wait for you. But I’m tired of waiting. Please do not suppress your feelings and pretend that they are not there as you always do. Yes, pursuing a relationship with me is a risk, but not much more so than what we currently are. Everybody can already see the profound bond between us. And I face the exact same risks as you, so I do understand precisely how you are feeling. That is why I’ll wait for you.”

He presses one last quick kiss to Dean’s lips before stepping away. In a moment, he’s back to his translations as if nothing has happened, leaving Dean to wonder why he feels as though he’s just made a huge mistake.


	6. Chapter 6

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Disclaimer: I don’t own SPN.
> 
> If you haven’t seen Dirty Dancing, there are spoilers.
> 
> Thanks to Dean_The_princess_Winchester, TheWolfStarShines, SophiaWhoLock, Evalyne, GreiFall, Darmys, carpentertje and tfw_cas for your comments :)

 

Things are different after Dean and Castiel’s talk, to the point where even Sam can tell when he returns to the bunker with their food. On the surface, they act as they always have: Dean teases Castiel for his lack of pop culture knowledge; Castiel unashamedly invades his personal space (which Dean thinks isn’t so accidental anymore – after all, it’s been years of trying to drill it into his head, and the angel isn’t stupid); Dean stops Castiel from sinking into a pit of ‘cooped up inside depression’ and Castiel metaphorically kicks Dean’s ass whenever he has his crippling self-loathing thoughts.

But there’s a different feel to them now. Dean can no longer pretend that it’s innocent when his hand brushes across Castiel’s back as he passes him, nor can he pretend that Castiel doesn’t know what he’s doing when the angel just sits there and stares, and then Dean gets caught up in his gaze and stares back and Sam cracks a loud joke about how he wishes they’d ‘stop eye fucking already’. Though however annoying his little brother is, Dean can’t help but feel very grateful that Sam sticks to annoying jokes and doesn’t actually make an effort to talk to one of them and ‘get them to open up about their feelings for one another’. Sam must know him better than he’d expected, if the bitch isn’t trying to force Dean to have a chick flick moment about how he feels for Castiel.

“Something happened when I left,” Sam says simply when Dean tentatively brings it up, trying not to sound _too_ curious for fear of being forced to have the chick flick moment he dreads. “I can tell. But I know that you’re deathly allergic to talking about this shit – even though I know you’re just pretending not to like chick flick moments – so I’m staying outta it. Not my business.”

“You sure those trials aren’t banging you up too much?” Dean says. Sam opens his mouth – probably to bitch about how he’s fine – but Dean gets in first. “‘Cause if you think I love chick flick moments, they must really be fucking with your head.”

Sam rolls his eyes to high heaven.

“Dean, you love chick flick moments. Don’t deny it. I caught you sobbing your eyes out over _Dirty Dancing_ just the other week, when Baby and Johnny did their romantic dance and could finally be together.”

Dean’s cheeks heat up. He stabs a finger at Sam threateningly.

“Don’t you dare tell _anyone_ , or you’ll wake up to find your girly hair everywhere but on your head.”

Sam holds his hands up in surrender, a small smile on his face. There’s a short, awkward silence, in which Dean shifts from foot to foot uncomfortably.

“It’s a compelling story, okay?” he blurts out. “He’s just some shmuck and she’s gorgeous and innocent and loves him, but she can’t be with him because her family doesn’t approve. But they stick it to everyone and win anyway.”

Sam’s sniggering into his hand. Dean wishes he could punch the sasquatch right in the face.

“See a bit of yourself and Cas in them, do you?” Sam smirks. Dean’s first instinct is to tell him to fuck off but he knows that this is exactly what Sam wants, so he draws himself up.

“Hell yeah,” he says proudly. “‘Cause that means I’m Johnny, and Patrick Swayze is a freaking god among men.”

He realises that he’s just walked right into another trap when Sam’s smirk widens.

“He _is_ pretty good-looking, isn’t he? About on the level of Doctor Sexy. Who you also totally don’t like.”

“ _Sam_ –”

“Also, you love the Impala more than almost anyone else. So if Cas is Baby…”

Scowling, Dean flips him off.

“Screw you, bitch.” He storms off, Sam’s cackles following him, and he nearly runs into Castiel in the hall.

“Is everything okay?” Castiel asks when he catches sight of Dean’s face. Dean rolls his eyes.

“Just Sam bein’ a bitch as usual.”

“I heard your conversation, but I don’t understand it. What is _Dirty Dancing_? Is it a type of dance in which you cover yourself in dirt and filth? And who are Johnny and Baby? I was not aware that Baby was a normal name for a human.”

Dean gapes, then shakes his head.

“I know that you don’t know shit about pop culture,” he says in an almost hushed voice. “But Jesus, Cas, how can you not know _Dirty Dancing_? It’s a _classic_!”

Castiel just stares at him.

“It may have escaped your notice, Dean, but I have been rather busy these last few years with the Apocalypse, Purgatory, being insane, and then being hunted by my brothers and sisters,” the angel says dryly. “So forgive me for never having had the chance to acquaint myself with human popular culture.”

Dean just shakes his head mutely.

“Not good enough, man. C’mon.”

He goes to grab Castiel by the hand but then remembers how deep the shit he’s in is, so he hastily grabs Castiel’s sleeve instead. If Castiel notices Dean’s hesitation as he’s led to a room that they’ve repurposed into a living room, he says nothing.

“What’s going on?” Castiel asks when Dean’s fiddling with the DVD player. Dean snaps his fingers and points over his shoulder at Castiel.

“Educating you. You can’t possibly continue through life without a healthy appreciation of the classics.”

Castiel opens his mouth to say something else but Dean’s got the DVD and TV up and running, so he falls silent when Dean shushes him. There’s an old three-seater sofa that they picked up from a second-hand store when they’d repurposed the room and Dean falls back onto it with a content sigh, DVD remote in hand. Castiel sits down more stiffly, close enough to Dean that they’re not on opposite ends of the sofa but not close enough that they’re touching. Part of Dean wants to complain, to pull Castiel closer and hug him and run his fingers through that messy black hair…but another part of him recognises that this wouldn’t be fair on Castiel after the angel’s agreement to give him time, not to mention that Dean would never want to let him go and he doesn’t want to feel rushed into anything he’s not ready for.

They’re barely five minutes into the movie before Castiel opens his mouth to ask a question. Dean prepares himself, but is surprised when Castiel just closes his mouth again.

“Dude, you can ask,” Dean says. “I’m not gonna bite.”

Castiel shakes his head.

“I have a feeling that I’ll have many questions throughout the movie,” he says. “I don’t want to ruin the experience by constantly interrupting it.”

Dean nods approvingly and settles back to watch. At about five minutes in is Swayze’s entrance – cool sunglasses and leather jacket slung over his shoulder, and that’s when Dean shifts to sit up straighter with a small grin.

“Is that man this ‘Patrick Swayze’ that Sam teased you about?” Castiel says, looking from Dean to the TV. Dean clears his throat and nods.

“Uh – yeah, that’s Swayze.” He hopes that he doesn’t sound like he was just admiring the guy two seconds ago. Castiel returns to examining Swayze as his character is yelled at.

“I must admit, he is rather attractive,” the angel says. “I can see why you would consider him on the level of deity in terms of human appearance.”

Dean splutters.

“I – what – I don’t –”

“Dean. You don’t need to maintain a front with me. If you find him physically attractive, I will not judge you at all.”

Oh, right. Castiel’s an angel, so of course he wouldn’t judge someone for finding someone else of the same gender attractive. And besides, he knows that Dean finds him hot, so judging Dean for liking Swayze would be pretty douchey.

“I…he’s not _bad_ ,” Dean says dismissively. Castiel just shakes his head in amusement and returns his focus to the movie.

Dean becomes more relaxed as the movie goes on…and so does Castiel. The angel begins to sag more and more and by the time Baby and Johnny are practicing in the water, Castiel is leaning against Dean’s chest, taking up the rest of the sofa with his legs. If Dean was smart then he would awkwardly clear his throat and get Castiel to sit up…but he loves having Castiel against him like this. It’s not inherently romantic, so it’s not triggering a knee-jerk reaction, though it’s taking all he has to not drape an arm over Castiel’s stomach and _make_ it cheesy.

“They’re gonna get it on,” Dean cackles quietly once Baby has finished her rant to Johnny and stands up to kiss him. Castiel looks up at him with a frown and then back at the screen.

“They…are dancing,” he says. “Is ‘getting it on’ another name for that?”

Dean snorts.

“Just wait, Cas.”

Sure enough, after Baby and Johnny’s sensual dance, they kiss and then Johnny begins to remove Baby’s clothes.

“Oh.” Castiel shifts. “It’s a metaphor for sex.”

“Dude, don’t tell me you’re gonna be a prude about it! You saw the pizza man and the babysitter! And besides, this shit isn’t even graphic. Made in the eighties, remember?”

The rest of the movie passes in an almost blur and before long, it’s time for Baby and Johnny’s dance in the final scene. Dean always denies until he’s blue in the face that he cries at this scene but when he looks down and sees that Castiel’s blue eyes are glossy, he gives a mental shrug and lets himself indulge. Castiel won’t care. Castiel won’t think him any less of a man for crying at something like this.

“It’s beautiful,” Castiel says in a thick voice. “Baby finally has the courage to stand up to her family, and Johnny begins to see his self-worth. Sam was right when he told you that they could be us.”

The movie ends then, and Dean wants to jump up and smile widely and pretend that they’d just had a totally one hundred per cent friendship experience with no romantic subtext whatever, thank you very much. But he can’t. He’s so comfortable and warm and he never wants to get up –

“Having a good time?” Sam’s voice says. Dean’s never shot out of his seat faster in his life, and poor Castiel is left in a heap on the sofa with a bewildered look on his face.

“Yep! Movie just finished! Now Cas has an appreciation for the classic of _Dirty Dancing_!” Dean babbles. Sam smirks at him.

“Especially Swayze, am I right?”

“Swayze _is_ rather attractive,” Castiel says helpfully. Dean groans loudly.

“I ain’t doing this shit.”

Before Sam or Castiel can say anything, Dean escapes to his room as fast as he can. He doesn’t know why he’s so embarrassed, when both Sam and Castiel know that he’s hot for the nerdy angel. Maybe it’s because he hasn’t allowed himself to have Castiel yet. If he allows himself to give in and accept Castiel’s feelings, maybe other people’s barbs won’t get to him as much. Or maybe he’ll become hypersensitive, too tuned in to what other people would think of him being with another guy. Either way, it doesn’t matter now.

It’s not even ten minutes later that there’s a knock on Dean’s door. It’s either Sam come to tell him that he’s an idiot, or Castiel come to have a ‘talk’. Neither option is really appealing to him.

“‘S open,” he calls anyway, not even moving from where he’s sprawled on his back with his hands folded under his head. The door quietly creaks open and Dean raises his head to see Castiel standing in the doorway, still as stiff as ever but with an apologetic air to him.

“Dean.” Castiel closes the door behind him with a quiet click, then hesitantly approaches the bed. “I wanted to apologise.”

Dean eyes him for a moment, then pushes himself into an upright position with an explosive sigh and gestures for Castiel to sit down. The angel perches on the edge of the bed, his whole body drawn and tight.

“Relax, I ain’t gonna bite,” Dean says with an eye roll. Castiel remains sitting awkwardly but his demeanour seems to slump in relief. “What d’you wanna apologise for?”

“I embarrassed you. Back in the living room with Sam. I could see that you were uncomfortable, yet I attempted to join Sam in his ‘teasing’.”

Dean thinks it’s freaking adorable that Castiel uses literal air quotes. He also thinks that he’ll never be vocalising that thought if he can help it.

“No big deal,” Dean scoffs, waving a hand.

“Dean –”

“Really. It’s no big deal. So drop it.”

Finally seeming to pick up on the fact that Dean just doesn’t want to talk about it, Castiel closes his mouth and nods. Silence falls on them.

“Have you…thought further about our mutual feelings?” the angel finally says. Dean internally cringes. He’s been afraid of Castiel bringing this up.

“I…Cas, I – I’m trying,” he says lamely. “I wanna. I really do like you. But…”

Castiel nods and looks down, his shoulders drooping.

“But you are too afraid of what that might mean for us,” he says. “You are too afraid that our profound bond will be irrevocably changed, and that you will lose me as a friend. I know that you may feel awkwardness on your part if that was to happen but believe me, Dean, absolutely nothing would change for me. All I want is to have you in any way that I can. I desire you romantically because I feel deep love for you.”

He stands up smoothly.

“Dean, I hope you decide soon. I don’t want to have to wait for your decision forever. I would much rather you reject me outright than drag this out, because at least that way I could return to simply being your close friend. I don’t like this barrier between us.”

Dean tries to call out to Castiel as the angel leaves but the words stick in his throat. With a groan, he slaps a hand over his eyes; then he bangs his head against the wall behind him, very impolite curse words swimming around in his brain.


	7. Chapter 7

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Disclaimer: I don’t own SPN.
> 
> Thanks to Dean_The_princess_Winchester, Darmys, tfw_cas, SophiaWhoLock and Carpentertje for your comments :)

By the time Dean finally emerges from his room after a day of beating himself up (and beating himself off; it’s not easy having a massive crush on your best friend and not being willing to take that step), it’s early evening and Sam is nowhere to be found. Castiel, however, seems to be sticking to his grudging promise of not leaving the bunker, as Dean finds him in the main room with a thick book open in front of him. The sight of Castiel just sitting there, squinting down at a book intensely with his dark hair all over the place, is enough to make Dean’s stomach jolt pleasantly. But the rare sight of him without his signature trench coat on – in fact, it’s hanging over the back of his chair with his suit jacket, leaving him wearing practically nothing in just his white shirt and blue tie – is practically like looking at him naked. Dean grimaces to himself at his reaction; his upstairs brain is telling him that he should just turn around and forget he ever saw this but his downstairs brain very much hates that idea.

He’s debating the merits of going to take care of his boner versus sauntering in there and pretending that nothing’s wrong when Castiel looks up and around at him. A small smile spreads across the angel’s face.

“Dean. Did you have enough time to yourself to think?”

 _‘Yeah, I was definitely doing a lot of thinking,’_ a small voice sniggers in Dean’s head. Dean promptly shoots it with a mental gun.

“I – yeah,” he says gruffly. “Just came out to – where’s Sam?”

“I believe he went for a run. He also said that if you hadn’t emerged from your room by the time he returned, he was going to order pizza so that he didn’t starve.”

Dean scoffed indignantly.

“As if I’d let that bitch starve. Well, maybe if he really annoyed me…”

Castiel gives him a less than amused look, though the effect is ruined by his twitching lips. Dean marvels at how much more emotion Castiel shows now than when the angel had first met him. All of a sudden, he wants nothing more than to just grab Castiel’s face and kiss those upturned lips, maybe kiss him somewhere else as he –

“I’m gonna go rustle up some grub,” Dean blurts out. “Yell if you need anything.”

He makes a quick escape before his body can give away his current train of thought. He doesn’t think Castiel can read his mind but the angel has always been freakishly intuitive when it comes to him; not to mention that Castiel can probably sniff out a boner from a mile away. He can probably smell the hormones in Dean’s blood, for all Dean knows.

It takes him two minutes of rifling through the fridge – the fridge that Sam promised he’d restock but never did, the bitch – before he starts to have a good mental bitch fest about the lack of food. He knows it’s technically his job to get the groceries, as he’s the one who cooks, but dammit, he’s allowed to complain! However, he strikes gold in the freezer in the form of frozen bacon, and he knows that they’ve got eggs and English muffins, so he’ll make bacon and egg muffins for dinner. If Sam doesn’t like it and bitches about how unhealthy it is, Dean will just show him the door.

It only takes fifteen minutes to fry the bacon once it’s defrosted in the microwave. By that time, Sam’s back from his run and he pokes his sweaty head into the kitchen and sniffs the air.

“Seriously? That’s so unhealthy, dude,” he whines. “I mean, it’s bad enough for breakfast!”

Dean stabs a spatula at him.

“Are you the one cooking, Mr Health Freak?” he says. “No? I didn’t think so. So get your ungrateful ass out of here and go shower or you can go hungry tonight. And if you want your health food crap, _you_ do the shopping.”

As Sam bitchfaces him and leaves the kitchen, Dean cackles. He hasn’t been able to tell Sam off like that for _years_ and now his status as the big brother in charge has been reinforced.

Once the eggs have been fried as patties in the bacon grease, Dean assembles six muffins – two for each of them, unless Castiel decides to forgo his and let Sam and Dean have an extra one each – and then he balances the plates and takes them out to the main room. Castiel is still reading and Sam’s joined him.

“Dinner is served,” he announces, setting the plates on the table. For all of his earlier bitching, Sam is quick to grab a plate and start to attack his muffins, while Castiel is more subdued in taking his food. When Dean sits down and takes the first bit of his muffin, he can’t hold back the moan that slips out at the taste of the greasy bacon and eggs, and he suppresses a grin when he notices Castiel shift at the sound.

“Thought it wasn’t healthy enough, Sammy,” he smirks at Sam. Sam just shoots him Bitchface #32 and continues to eat.

“I’m not sure I like these molecules,” Castiel announces. “They taste overly fatty. They would be much more palatable with fresh vegetables, like when you make your burgers.”

“Can I have your muffins, then?” Dean says immediately. Castiel shrugs and pushes his plate towards Dean.

It doesn’t take long for Sam and Dean to finish their dinner, with Castiel watching them intently. Sam offers to do the dishes and once he’s finished them, he announces that he’s turning in for the night. This leaves Dean and Castiel alone in the room together.

“Having fun?” Dean says after a moment, nodding at Castiel’s book. Castiel shrugs.

“It isn’t fun but it occupies my time. I’d much rather be outside the bunker but I know why I have to stay here.”

“Right. Yeah.”

They lapse into another silence. For a moment, Dean wonders when and why they got so damn awkward, but he already knows the answer: they got awkward the minute he said he loved Castiel. In a way, he wishes he’d never said those words and made their friendship – relationship – whatever this is between them – awkward, but at the same time, he knows he’d never take those words back.

“I’m gonna turn in too,” Dean says quickly. “Need my four hours. Y’know.”

“I know,” Castiel agrees. He rises when Dean does, his eyes fixed on the man, and his intense gaze is making it hard for Dean to concentrate on not giving in and kissing the hell out of him when they’d agreed not to.

“Can you stop that?” Dean blurts out. Castiel frowns.

“Stop what?”

“Staring at me! How the hell am I s’posed to stay away when you look at me like that?”

Castiel’s frown deepens.

“I don’t want you to stay away. On the contrary, I want you. I want you with me. I want you to myself.”

Dean groans and runs a hand through his spiky hair.

“I can’t!” he snaps. “We’ve talked about this!”

“We have,” Castiel agrees evenly. “But you are being incredibly self-centred, Dean.”

“Me? Self-centred? Just ‘cause you want to –”

“Nine hundred and fifty six,” Castiel hisses. Dean splutters at being cut off.

“Pardon?”

“Nine hundred and fifty six. That’s how many copies of you Naomi made me kill.”

Dean grinds to a halt, staring at Castiel with a partly open mouth.

“I couldn’t do it at first,” Castiel mutters, almost as though he’s talking to himself. “How could I kill you? Naomi knew that, of course. She made the first one easy. He didn’t talk, didn’t react in any way. Even so, I couldn’t bring myself to do it. For every copy I refused to kill, she brainwashed me even further. Drilled into my head again and again.”

“Cas –”

“It only took one hundred and fourteen copies for them to start expressing affection. I remember that number ninety six insulted me, called me useless and a whole barrage of names, told me everything that I know you are too afraid to tell me to my face. That one was hardest to kill, because I knew that everything he said was true. I received the most brainwashing for that copy. Naomi latched onto what he said and used it against me. By the time number three hundred and seventy said that he loved me, I had grown numb. I believed that I deserved this torture.”

“Cas, please –”

“And yet, for all of her training, she couldn’t stop me from listening to the real one. No matter how much she tampered with my mind, she couldn’t break me. Not fully.”

Castiel marches up to Dean and jabs him in the chest, his face stormy.

“So don’t you _dare_ think that you are the only one with problems,” the angel growls. “I said that I would wait for you, but do you know how hard it is? I know rationally that you love me. But with every rejection – every time you push me away – I find it harder and harder to believe that you really do love me. With every rejection, you remind me of – of _them_.”

Castiel looks away. Dean is alarmed to see that his lip is quivering, as though he’s about to cry. But Castiel doesn’t cry! He’s Castiel! Dean feels sick to his stomach. How much crap must Castiel be going through to be close to tears? And yet, here Dean is, making it all about _himself_ as usual.

“I can’t do this anymore, Dean,” Castiel whispers. “If you want me, tell me now. Let yourself have me. Let me take care of you. And if you don’t want me, tell me so that I can stop wondering if you truly love me or if you are just – what do you humans say? Stringing me along. Every second that I have to spend in indecision is _painful_. I don’t know how much more I can take of you claiming to want me, then pushing me away.”

Dean tries to speak, but he can’t. The words stuck in his throat, he reaches out and cups Castiel’s cheek with one hand, caressing it gently. Castiel leans into the touch.

“I – God, Cas, I want you so much,” Dean croaks. “I just…it’s _me_. Not you. You keep flapping off and I’m terrified you’re gonna just leave me. _Everyone_ leaves me.”

Castiel gives him a hurt look that makes his stomach lurch.

“I would never leave you, Dean,” he says. “Not unless I was forced to. Not unless you didn’t want me to stay.”

“But I’m _scared_ , Cas.” Dean is ashamed of how his voice comes out in a whine. What the hell is this, Feelings Day? “You left me to go find your deadbeat dad. You left me to make some stupid deal with Crowley when I could’ve helped you, then you went all Godstiel mode. You left me in Purgatory – let me talk like we were gonna get out and get back to saving people and hunting things, when you intended to stay all along! You’re asking me to just throw myself off a cliff without knowing what’s at the bottom, when I’ve already thrown myself off other cliffs and gotten broken before!”

“But you can’t just stay on top of this cliff and live in fear for the rest of your life when you know that I’ll catch you this time,” Castiel counters. “This time, there’s nothing keeping me from you; not trying to find God, not the war against Raphael, not Purgatory. The only threat we face now is one that I won’t willingly leave you for. And even if I was forced to leave, I would come back. I want you. You know I want you. I don’t see what’s so hard to understand.”

“Of course you wouldn’t,” Dean laughs weakly. Castiel blinks and takes a step back and a mask slips down over his features.

“What does that mean?” he says coolly. Dean’s stomach lurches. Here he goes. Time to do what he always does when he’s scared: lash out.

“I – just that you’re an angel,” he fumbles. “You don’t feel shit like we do, do you? I mean, Heaven’s big on the whole ‘no feelings’ thing.”

“Are you suggesting that I am incapable of feeling love for you as much as you love me?”

“What? No!” He’s just digging himself deeper into this hole and he knows it.

“Dean –”

Before Castiel can finish his sentence, Dean grabs him by the face and crushes their lips together. He tries to pour every bit of what he feels for Castiel into the kiss but, to his dismay, Castiel makes a sound of disagreement and pulls away.

“ _That_!” he snaps. “ _That_ is what I’m talking about! You ask me to wait for you, but you clearly cannot seem to extend the same courtesy to me! Do not think that I don’t see how you look at me whenever I walk into the room! And yet I refrain from looking at you like I want to!”

“I didn’t say you couldn’t look!” Dean snaps. “I just needed time to –”

“To sort out your feelings. I know.” Castiel gives a hysterical little laugh.

“Well, you clearly don’t need that time! You know what you want, don’t you?”

“If I allowed myself to admire you and your body as I truly wanted to, Dean, I would never have been able to hold myself back. Just because I know exactly what I want does not make me any less emotionally deep as compared to you.”

Dean’s stomach is sinking as he realises just how much his big mouth and self-destructive tendencies have screwed up.

“You think that because I am an angel, and therefore non-human, that my emotions are shallower?” Castiel says scathingly. “You are not the only one with complicated feelings. The difference between me and you, however, is that I don’t feel the need to torture myself in order to realise what I want.”

When he turns to gather up his suit jacket and trench coat, Dean finally finds his voice.

“What’re you doing?” he forces out. Castiel gives him a dark look.

“I’m leaving.”

Dean gives a nasty little laugh.

“Yeah, go on! Run away, like you always do when shit gets tough!”

“I’m leaving so that I can think! I cannot think with you here, distracting me and turning my thoughts against me!”

Horror curls in Dean’s stomach as he realises just what’s going on. No. Not again. Not this time. Not when it’s this dangerous!

“No, you can’t leave! You gotta stay here so the angels don’t find you!”

Castiel’s lip curls.

“Is that so? Watch me.”

Before Dean can say anything, the sound of rustling feathers fills the air and Castiel is gone. Now that the anger is starting to fade from his mind, Dean’s starting to come to the horrible realisation of just how much he’s fucked up and, in desperation, he calls, “Cas!”

There’s no answer.

“Cas! C’mon, buddy! Come back and talk about this!”

He’s expecting the sound of wings again, and desperate anger fills him when he doesn’t hear it.

“Son of a fucking bitch!”


	8. Chapter 8

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Disclaimer: I don’t own SPN.
> 
> Guys, lay off Dean! He’s just extremely emotionally constipated and is so used to being backstabbed and screwed over that he’s terrified to open up again! But I know that Cas baby appreciates the support :D
> 
> Thanks to Dean_The_princess_Winchester, Adsdragonlover (Destiel Made Me Do It), Darmys, tfw_cas and SophiaWhoLock for your comments :)

 

By morning, Castiel hasn’t returned and Dean’s feeling sick to his stomach. He’s always done this – pushed people away, stopped them from getting too close – but the only times he’s ever felt this damn sick were the times he pushed Sam away. Sure, Cassie’s rejection and Lisa kicking him out and John constantly leaving him had hurt like hell, but Sam and Castiel are special in a way that these others aren’t. And Castiel is special in a way that Sam isn’t. Sure, he loves them both equally, but…they’re different. And he’s coming to the tortured realisation that losing either of them hurts equally.

“Where’s Cas?” Sam says. Dean manages to stop himself from jumping; he hadn’t heard Sam enter the room and the sasquatch nearly frightened the shit out of him. Sam’s dressed in exercise clothes, clearly intending to go for his morning run.

“He…left.” Dean winces at how his voice cracks.

“Left? But he can’t leave! The angels are after him!” Sam pauses and squints at Dean. “You look like shit.”

“Gee, thanks,” Dean says sarcastically.

“Okay, what did you do?”

“Me? Why do you think it’s something _I_ did?”

“Because I know you, Dean. I know your stupid, noble tendency to push people away because you’re scared they’ll get hurt. What the hell did you do?”

Dean doesn’t answer for a moment. Then he rubs a hand over his face and turns to fully face Sam.

“I think I fucked up, Sammy.”

To Sam’s credit, he doesn’t say anything. Instead, he pulls up a chair and leans forward, resting his forearms on his thighs.

“What happened?”

Dean tells him everything. He tells Sam about the ‘I love you’ in the crypt; about how he and Castiel have been dancing around each other at his request; about the two or three kisses they’ve already shared, and how he’s only messing with Castiel’s head whenever this does happen; about how Castiel has been respecting his request to let him think about it; and about how he’d accused Castiel of not understanding the depth of human emotion and not being capable of feeling that way. He leaves out the bit about Castiel being forced to kill nearly a thousand copies of him. That’s Castiel’s story to tell, not his.

Sam listens in utter silence, which Dean is surprisingly grateful for. The last thing he needs is some douche interrupting him after every sentence and trying to psychoanalyse him. It isn’t until he finishes his spiel that Sam finally speaks after a moment to gather his thoughts.

“Honestly? I’m with both of you on this,” he says. Dean gives him a funny look.

“Both of us? I’m the one who fucked up here!”

“Yeah but you can’t just turn your issues off,” Sam says. “And I think Cas _does_ get human emotion, but not fully. I don’t think he can grasp just how many times you’ve been abandoned and lost people you love for that abandonment complex and habit of pushing people away to have formed.”

“Gee, thanks,” Dean mutters. Sam gives him a bitchface.

“Do you want my help or not?”

Dean rolls his eyes.

“Go for it, Dr Phil.”

“I don’t think he sees just how special he is for you to keep letting him back in after all the times he’s left. I mean, anyone else leaves you and you tell them to fuck off, but not me and Cas. I’m the only one you ever let back in until Cas came along, and it scares you that he’s gotten so close. You’re terrified of this power he has over you.”

Dean opens his mouth to protest but then closes it. It’s not like Sam’s wrong, and maybe if he shuts up this whole chick flick moment’ll end quicker.

“The problem is that Cas has his own issues with people rejecting him. His whole _family’s_ rejected him, and they keep wanting him back but then push him away even more by trying to break him. You’re similar but different. You want him and push him away and keep rejecting him, yeah, but for different reasons. And I think he _does_ know that, just like you know that being with him isn’t gonna make a difference whether or not he gets himself hurt. You _know_ he can take care of himself. But even though he knows you want him, you keep rejecting him – like he’s constantly rejected by everyone else. And that stuff gets into your head and stays there. You of all people know that.”

Dean’s starting to feel even sicker.

“So what the hell should I do?” he says. “Why the hell would an _angel_ want _my_ sorry ass?”

It’s Sam’s turn to roll his eyes.

“I’m not gonna tell you to stop putting yourself down, because I know that’s like talking to a brick wall. But if Cas wants to be with you, I think you should let him. He _did_ rebel for free will, remember?”

“But…” Dean doesn’t want to just give in that easily. “Sam, what if it all goes wrong? What if I fuck it up? I’d rather he just be my best friend that I wanna bone for the rest of my life than we get it on and everything goes to hell.”

“At the risk of sounding like a chick flick, you need to just go for it. Just _do_ it, Dean. And if you’re really too scared to go for it, tell him it won’t happen. Give him closure. Don’t keep stringing him along by saying you need time to think, then kissing him and doing cheesy shit. That’s what’s really getting to him, not you needing time to sort out your crap.”

They fall into silence. Much as his skin is crawling at being totally vulnerable in front of his baby brother, Dean’s finding himself more grateful than he’s been in years that Sam is his brother. Sure, he pushes the bitch around and pranks him and picks on him, but he’ the luckiest guy in the world to have Sam.

“Right. Thanks. Bitch.”

Sam rolls his eyes.

“Jerk.”

Just like that, the moment’s over.

“I’m gonna go out and look for Cas,” Dean says. “I know he can fly and stuff but I can’t stay here doing nothing.”

Sam nods.

“I get it. I’ll come with you.”

Dean raises his eyebrows.

“But your run! How are you gonna function without your morning torture?”

Cackling, he ducks Sam’s punch and blocks the next one with his forearm.

“You are such an asshole,” Sam grumbles but his lips are twitching. Dean smirks at him.

“I aim to please.”

* * *

 

They spend all morning searching for Castiel in Lebanon but no matter where they go and how many times they call his name, there’s no sign of him. By the time they decide to return to the bunker, Dean’s nearly out of his mind.

“What if they got him, Sam?” he demands. “What if those assholes got to him? All because I got pissy with him and he left!”

“I hate to break it to you, but he probably would’ve left anyway,” Sam says. “You know Cas. He hates being locked up.”

“But if they kill him, the last thing he’s gonna remember is me being a total dick to him,” Dean says miserably. Sam side-eyes him.

“For someone who’s allergic to feelings, you’re being an utter chick right now,” he says. Dean just flips him off.

“Shut up.”

A whole week passes with no sign of Castiel and Dean’s so desperate that he’s taken to praying every day.

“Cas? Where are you, buddy?”

“You got your ears on? I get you’re mad but please, let me know you’re alright.”

“C’mon, Cas. Gimme a sign. If those winged dicks got you, I don’t know what I’d do.”

“Cas…please…”

It’s gotten to the point where even Dean’s worried about himself and his Bella Swan-style moping. But seeing as Bella went totally catatonic over an asshole she’d only known for a few months, whereas Castiel had pulled Dean out of Hell and been by his side for years, Dean thinks he’s earned the right to be worried to the point of self-imposed isolation. And besides, at least Sam doesn’t have to force him to eat.

He’s interrupted from his pity party by a knock on his door. A moment later, it cracks open to reveal Sam.

“Got a call from Kevin,” he says. “He needs our help.”

Groaning, Dean pushes himself into a sitting position.

“That’s nice.”

“Thought you might want something to…take your mind off Cas. All this sitting around isn’t gonna help.”

“Gee, no shit, Sherlock.”

Sam rolls his eyes to high heaven.

“Just get the hell in the car, Dean.”

It’s a six hour drive to Warsaw, where Garth’s house boat and Kevin are, but Dean makes the drive in five. Sam’s understandably a little wary of Dean’s driving but he’s smart enough not to say anything about it. No matter how recklessly Dean’s driven before, he’s never gotten them into a crash (barring external, douchey supernatural forces, of course). It’s afternoon by the time they arrive and when Dean bangs on the door of the house boat, he’s nearly decapitated by a huge cast iron skillet.

“Whoa! Geez!” he exclaims. “What’s going on? What’s with the S.O.S.?”

He wrinkles his nose as he and Sam enter and are slapped in the face by the smell of unwashed laundry, mouldy food containers and dust everywhere. Clearly, self-care is not high on Kevin’s list of priorities at the moment.

“It’s him,” Kevin says in a haunted, wrecked voice. “Crowley. He’s in my head.”

“He’s…in your head,” Sam repeats dubiously. Kevin nods shakily.

“Do you know what that means?”

“Yeah, it means we need to up your anxiety meds,” Dean snaps. He’s aware that he’s being an asshole but with Castiel gone, he really can’t find it in himself to care. “Kevin, you’re dreaming. Look, if Crowley knew where you were, he’d do a hell of a lot more than mess with your head.”

Kevin makes an odd movement, like he’s going to nod his agreement but shakes his head at the last minute. Dean exchanges a look with Sam. Where the hell’s Garth, when he said he’d look after the kid?

“Alright, where’s Garth?” Sam voices what they’re both thinking. Kevin shrugs.

“On a case or – or the dentist. I don’t know. I haven’t heard from him.”

Instead of doing what he normally would and causing a massive fuss over Garth ditching Kevin, Dean chooses to focus on the main issue at hand here.

“Well, what’d you wanna tell us that you couldn’t say on the phone? And can you put the frying pan down?”

Kevin complies, then rubs his eyes with the heels of his palms. A pang of sympathy for just how exhausted and worn out the poor kid must be courses though Dean.

“I translated the second trial from the tablet.”

Dean blinks and then gives a small grin. Finally, something’s going right in this hellish world!

“You…crazy prophet, you! Nice work!”

Kevin just brushes off the praise with, “And if Crowley’s in my head, he knows.”

“He’s not in your head, Kevin,” Sam says reassuringly. “It’s okay. Just…we know you’re stressed, but stay with us, okay? What’s the second trial?”

The second trial turns out to be rescuing an innocent soul from Hell. Dean does _not_ like the sound of this. While his nightmares of Hell are largely a thing of the past, he still has flashbacks to blood, and darkness, and bright flames, and tortured screaming. Just thinking about going back there sends cold shivers down his spine, and he was only there for forty Hell years. He doesn’t even want to begin to imagine what Sam must be thinking. The poor guy was there for over a Hell century!

“Rescue a soul from Hell? Like actually…go to Hell?” Sam says incredulously. Damn, he’s doing a good job of hiding how incredibly terrified he must be. Dean’s respect for his little brother rises in that moment. “How – how do you get a soul unto Heaven? I mean, how do you even get a soul _out_ of Hell?”

In that moment, both of them know what they’re going to have to do.

“We’re gonna need an expert,” Dean says.


	9. Chapter 9

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Disclaimer: I don’t own SPN.
> 
> So the canon timeline seems to have discrepancies, since the rego for Baby in ‘As Time Goes By’ is for 2013 (the year the episode aired), but there are two ‘intermittent’ years that don’t seem to be accounted for: the year between seasons 5 and 6, where Sam was in Hell, and the one between seasons 7 and 8, when Dean and Cas were in Purgatory. I’m accounting for those and adding two years to this timeline, so this is set in 2015, not 2013. I only bring this up because of Dean mentioning how long he’s known Cas for.
> 
> And sorry about the late update, just had a long work day!
> 
> Thanks to SophiaWhoLock, Dean_The_princess_Winchester, tfw_cas and Darmys for your comments :)

 

Calling on an ‘expert’ involves heading to the nearest crossroads armed with cans of spray paint and the ingredients to summon a crossroads demon. As he and Sam spray a Devil’s Trap on the ground, Dean can’t help but remember the first time he’d summoned one of these fuckers – all the way back when they were just naïve little boys and were still relatively innocent to the ways of demons. He had been so tempted to take the demon up on her offer of resurrecting John…but then an innocent man would have died. A selfish man, yeah, but it’s not like Dean has any room to judge Evan Hudson. Not after selling his own soul for Sam and only getting a tenth of Evan’s deal. And besides, John would have kicked his ass so thoroughly for choosing him over an innocent civilian that Dean probably would’ve asked the demons to take him to Hell early. John Winchester had been a great man, but a shitty father. And it’s taken _years_ for Dean to even begin to admit to himself that his role model hadn’t been such a good role model after all.

God, that feels like a lifetime ago. They hadn’t even known of the existence of angels back then. It’s kind of hard to believe that in the literally millions of years that Castiel had existed, it had only taken six and a half years of knowing Dean for him to fall in nearly every way possible, short of actually becoming human. When Dean thinks about this too much, it boggles him and he starts to sort of see why Castiel fell in love with him. Castiel has been cut off from his family and home for his choices and though Dean feels conceited for thinking this, it’s really no wonder that Castiel had latched on to him and that they have a more profound bond. While Dean does wish that Castiel had chosen someone less fucked-up to fall for, a small, selfish part of him is thrilled that Castiel wants _him_ and no one else. It makes him feel special. After all, if an angel of the Lord – albeit a rather non-conventional, rebellious one (but then, where had Castiel learned that in the first place?) – wants him, then he must not be _that_ horrible of a person.

“Dean?”

Realising that Sam has been staring at him, Dean shakes his head to clear his thoughts.

“Yeah?”

“The trap’s been done for like five minutes. Are you okay?”

“Fine,” Dean says brusquely.

“Dean –”

“Can we just summon the son of a bitch already?”

Dean turns away from Sam to prepare the summoning box. He’s acutely aware of Sam’s eyes practically boring into his back but he forces himself not to turn around and fall into the trap of having to actually talk about his thoughts and feelings. Despite his allergy to talking about this crap, he’s been ensnared by Sam and those earnest ‘I just want to help’ puppy dog eyes before, and he’s not keen to get pinned again.

“Dean, just talk –”

Dean cuts him off with a finger stab.

“I’m gonna have to stop you right there. We’ve got a demon to summon, so we don’t have time to deal with your mushy feelings crap.”

He revels in the indignant look on Sam’s face as he digs a hole and buries the box in the ground. When he stands up and turns around, the crossroads demon has already appeared, wearing the body of a hot young guy with dark hair and pale eyes. Dean desperately tries to ignore the striking similarities to Castiel but, judging by the look on Sam’s face, he doesn’t really do a good job.

“Winchesters,” the demon greets coolly, his eyes flashing red. Dean raises his eyebrows.

“What happened to the hot chicks?”

“Like you don’t know,” the demon says derisively. Dean’s stomach does a weird twist. “Now I’m out of here.”

“Maybe not,” Sam says, an eyebrow raised. When the demon looks down and sees the Devil’s Trap he’s standing in, the look on his face almost makes Dean want to laugh.

Almost.

From there, it’s easy to slap inhibiting handcuffs on the demon and bundle him into the Impala to take him somewhere secluded to interrogate. When they finally do find an abandoned building, Sam goes on ahead to paint a quick Devil’s Trap and then Dean yanks the demon out of the car and into the building. They force the demon into a chair inside the Devil’s Trap, then tie him to it and turn to take out their tools.

“Start talkin’,” Dean says, brandishing a flask of holy water.

“I got nothin’ to say,” the demon says with a bored shrug. Dean narrows his eyes.

“Oh, I think you do. We wanna know how to sneak into Hell. Slippery little bastard like yourself should know, we’re thinkin’.”

“I ain’t talking.”

It takes a full two hours for them to wear the demon down enough for him to start talking – and even then, he still resists.

“Bite me,” he snarks. In response, Dean gives an almost feral grin.

“How about another owie?” he says and then dumps half a flask of holy water on the demon, who screams in pain. Dean’s vividly reminded of the time that dickbag Uriel had forced him to torture Alastair, while Castiel had stood by sadly and said that he wished Dean didn’t have to do it. How dismissively had he been treated then, when he was blindly obeying them and was part of the family? And now that he’s actually doing his own thing and got his own free will, how much contempt and loathing are they slinging at him? It breaks Dean’s heart to think of what Castiel must be going through, while Dean can’t do anything except torture fucking demons and try to close the gates of Hell, like that’s way more important than saving his maybe-more-than-best-friend.

After a little more torture, the demon finally caves in and tells them that for a price, they can be smuggled anywhere by a rogue reaper – Hell, Heaven, the Veil, anywhere.

“Now kill me,” the demon pleads. “Please, man. Better than if Crowley gets his hands on me.”

They do kill the demon eventually, after squeezing every last drop of information they can out of him. As the knife slides home, Dean desperately tries to remind himself that this isn’t Castiel, no matter how much the meat suit looks like him – but all he can see is his more-than-best-friend, slumped over dead with blood trickling out of his mouth, and his insides are suddenly gripped with a deathly fear for Castiel.

* * *

 

It doesn’t take long for them to track down the rogue reaper that the crossroads demon had told them about. He’s leaning against a cab, newspaper in hand, and he looks up as Sam and Dean approach. Dean isn’t sure whether the reaper recognises them as the Winchesters or not, because his dark eyes give away nothing.

“Ajay,” Dean says. “Need to talk to you for a sec.”

Now Ajay’s eyes register mild surprise. He folds up his newspaper and removes his Bluetooth headset.

“You know my name,” he says. Sam nods.

“And what you do. We wanna do business.”

Ajay raises his eyebrows.

“But you are mortal. Flesh and blood.”

“Yeah, but if we wanted to cross the border into Hell –”

“Visitor’s pass,” Dean chimes in.

“No one wants to get _into_ Hell,” Ajay scoffs.

“But can a coyote like you get in?” Sam says. Ajay shrugs nonchalantly.

“It’s possible. But I have special skills. It will be pricey.”

Dean eyes him with distrust. From his experience, pricey can be as mild as a couple thousand dollars, or as much as a soul. He’s not sure which pricey Ajay is talking about.

“How pricey?” he says.

“You two are resourceful. One day, you will owe me a favour.”

“You say that like you know us,” Sam says slowly.

“Of course. You’re the Winchesters.”

“Sorry, have we met?” Dean says abruptly. It could just be their reputation among the monsters as to how Ajay knows them, but Dean’s not sure. Ajay sounds too…familiar with them.

“I am the reaper who took Bobby Singer to Hell,” Ajay says. That triggers a reaction of surprise in both Sam and Dean.

“Bobby in Hell?” Sam exclaims. “We burned his bones! Once we did that, it was over. End of story.”

“Not necessarily,” Ajay says unhelpfully. Dean shakes his head in denial.

“No, no, no,” he says. “See, Bobby was on the good side of things, and good guys go to the penthouse.”

“Usually,” Ajay concedes. “Depends on who you know, what palms get greased. If you’re on the King of Hell’s no-fly list, no way you cruise the friendly skies.”

Dean’s blood is starting to boil. They’d thought that Bobby was happily tucked away in Heaven, and yet he’s been down in Hell this whole time! And now they have to cooperate with the fucker who’d sent him there in order to get the place closed down! If they weren’t doing this for the whole world, Dean would be tempted to bury an angel blade up Ajay’s ass…but at least with this bit of information, they know who they have to save from Hell. Much as he hates to admit it, Dean’s glad that Sam will just have to rescue Bobby instead of spending days touring the Pit, searching for someone who’s innocent.

“Okay, let’s do this,” he says. “How much for two tickets down and three back?”

But Sam pulls him aside and insists that he has to do it alone, that he has to do all of the trials solo. Dean hates to concede, but Sam is Determined and when Sam is Determined, nothing will stop him. When they return to Ajay, the reaper promises to have Sam back in twenty four hours and then they turn to face a graffitied door…and they’re gone.

With nothing to do now, Dean decides that he should get back to see how Kevin’s doing. He stops on the way to get some food (making sure to remember pie for himself) and when he makes it to the house boat, he sees that Kevin has gone even crazier than usual and has taken to hiding in the closet. The poor kid’s thoroughly convinced that Crowley’s gotten into his head and no matter how much Dean insists that he’d know if Crowley was there, Kevin isn’t buying it. He comes out only to grab the whole tray of food and have a near-breakdown over how he just wants everything to end and for him to be able to go back to his normal life, then retreats back into the closet. It isn’t until he locks the door that Dean realises that Kevin took all of the food. Including his pie.

“That’s my pie,” he says mournfully. The universe really is against him if he can’t even have his pie! Still hungry, he decides to fry up some bacon and eggs and that’s when Kevin comes out to drop a freaking bombshell: he went out and hid the tablet.

“You got rid of it?” Dean bursts out.

“Temporarily!” Kevin says. “I hid it!”

“What? Where?”

“If I tell you where, it’s not hidden, is it?”

“Kevin, tell me where the damn tablet is, or I swear to you –”

Kevin just retreats back into the closet and shuts the door.

“Kevin!”

“Kids,” a female voice sighs. Dean jumps and whirls around, tugging his gun out, and finds himself confronted by a woman with auburn hair tied back in a neat bun and dressed in an expensive-looking grey suit. He can instantly tell she’s an angel by the aura of ‘I’m better than you, bow to me, filthy human’ she gives off, no matter how sympathetic her smile is.

“So cute when they’re little,” the angel continues. “Then they turn into teenagers and the party’s over. We haven’t been formally introduced, Dean. My name is Naomi.”

She holds out a hand to shake. Dean, however, is rooted to the spot. Naomi. Naomi. The Naomi who had been brainwashing Castiel and forced him to kill Samandriel and nearly kill Dean. The Naomi who had send Esper and Ion to hunt him down. The Naomi who had more than likely kidnapped Castiel the minute he left the bunker. He can barely think through the red haze in his mind.

“I know who you are,” Dean spits. “And I know what you did to Cas when he got out of Purgatory.”

“After I rescued him from Purgatory, you mean. At the cost of many angels’ lives.”

“Okay, cut the crap, lady.” Dean is so mad that he’s shaking and it’s all he can do to not punch her across the face already. “Where’s Cas? What the hell have you done with him?”

“I brought him home,” Naomi says with a smile. “He’s back with his brothers and sisters now. But the problem is, the angel tablet is still missing. The equivalent of a hydrogen bomb has essentially been lost to us and it could be anywhere in the world.”

“I dunno what you want me to do about it,” Dean says snidely. “He hid it.”

“I know that. So I require your help.”

“You need _my_ help? When _you’re_ the one who told him to try and kill me?”

“Hmm. Yes, I suppose that is how he would hear it. When I learned of the angel tablet, I told Castiel to get it at any cost. That’s my job: to protect Heaven. I’m a warrior, just as you are. And part of my job involves securing anything that poses a risk to us. One of those items is the angel tablet.”

“Save it,” Dean says scornfully. “I don’t trust angels, which means I don’t trust you.”

“And yet you haven't warded this place against us.” Naomi tuts and shakes her head. “I know. You're hoping Castiel will return to you. I admire your loyalty. But Castiel is home with us now. Where he belongs. However…”

She pauses. Dean latches onto this.

“However?”

“I suppose if we had the angel tablet,” Naomi says slowly, “we would no longer need to keep Castiel. He would no longer be a liability with his knowledge of its location. So if you were to retrieve it for me…”

Dean instantly bristles.

“Listen, lady,” he snarls, wanting nothing more than to ram an angel blade in her throat like he’d done to Zachariah years ago. “I know exactly what you’re up to. Tryin’ to use Cas like – like some sorta hostage?”

Naomi sighs and shakes her head.

“I know you don’t want to believe it, Dean, but we’re on the same side here with your desire to shut the gates of Hell. Just think about it. Oh, and I know you’ve been doing business with Ajay. He did mention, didn’t he, that his way into Hell is through Purgatory?”

Dean’s stomach immediately drops. It must show on his face as well, because Naomi catches it straight away and goes in for the attack.

“I knew you’d want to know. You see, I really do want to help. I only have Castiel’s and Earth’s best interests in mind.”

She vanishes before Dean can slap her, leaving him clenching his fists so hard that the bones nearly pop out of place in his attempt to not level the place. So she _does_ have Castiel. Well, Dean’s going to make sure that she regrets the day she laid a finger on _his_ angel. For now, though, all that matters is making sure that Sam gets through Hell and Purgatory safely.


	10. Chapter 10

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Disclaimer: I don’t own SPN.
> 
> Thanks to Darmys, Dean_The_princess_Winchester and tfw_cas for your comments :)

 

Of course the Winchester luck has to kick in. When he reaches the place that they’re supposed to meet Ajay, he finds the reaper slumped in his cab, dead. After letting out a few choice words and then kicking the car – why does all the shit have to happen to them? – Dean paces and wonders what to do. With no Ajay, Sam and Bobby will be stuck in Purgatory forever. Unless they know the secret way out…Dean brushes this thought off. There are only three people who know the way out. Himself, Castiel…and Benny.

Closing his eyes and bowing his head for a moment, Dean pulls out his phone to make probably one of the most difficult calls he’s had to make in his life. He’s not sure whether to be relieved or sick when Benny answers the phone.

“So good to hear your voice, Dean,” the vampire says, his Cajun drawl prominent. “I mean that.”

“How you been?” Dean’s not usually one for small talk, but anything to delay the moment he has to make his request.

“Oh, you know…I get by.”

Dean’s stomach lurches as he remembers that he’s completely forgotten about Benny lately. Great. That’s another ‘friend’ he’s fucked over completely. Why exactly has Castiel fallen for him?

“I guess I let you down, huh?” he says glumly.

“Look, I’m…uh…I’m just happy as hell to hear from you.” Benny slurps on the other end of the phone, probably from a blood pack or something.

“You might change your mind about that.”

“Why? What d’you mean?”

“Benny, I gotta ask you a favour. It’s a _big_ one.”

Dean hates himself in this moment. He hates himself for hoping that Benny says yes to save Sam, yet also wanting Benny to say no, despite that leaving Sam screwed over. He can’t win with his mind no matter what he does and it’s at times like this that he just wants to go to bed and never wake up.

Benny says yes.

* * *

 

Benny’s only a few hours away and Dean’s stomach fills with dread when his car pulls up in the alleyway. He embraces Dean briefly after getting out of his car and then they’re silent for a moment.

“Wow,” Benny says to break the silence. “When Dean Winchester asks for a favour, he’s not screwing around.”

“Benny, sending you back there is the last thing I ever wanted to do.” Dean’s proud that his voice doesn’t crack, but it’s a close one. Both of them know just how hellish Purgatory is, yet Benny’s agreed to just let Dean hack off his head and send him back there after all the effort he put into getting out. For some reason, he vaguely reminds Dean of Lenore, the good vampire.

“I know. I know.”

“But my little brother’s stuck down there.”

“This would be the little brother who wants to kill me, right?”

Dean’s stomach twists. He chooses to ignore that, for his own sake of mind.

“You got access to the place.”

“By ‘access’, you mean ‘getting beheaded’?”

Dean shakes his head, then runs a hand through his short hair and turns away.

“Yeah, you’re right,” he says, his voice quivering. “It’s too much. It’s not like I’ve exactly been there for you lately.”

“What?” Benny scoffs. “Oh come on, Dean. You know I love a challenge.”

Dean pauses and turns around.

“You’re serious?” he says incredulously. Yeah, Benny had agreed over the phone, but there’s something different about being confronted with the prospect and still agreeing to go through with it.

“Hey, he’s your little brother. I say we do this.”

God, Benny is a freaking saint.

“I owe you,” Dean swears.

“Oh, you don’t owe me nothing,” Benny says dismissively. “Truth is, uh…I could use a break from all this.”

Dean’s mouth droops.

“It’s really been that tough?”

Benny sighs and shakes his head.

“I’m not a good fit, Dean. Not with vampires and, for sure, not with the humans. I don’t belong. And after a while…that starts to wear on you.” He pauses and snorts. “Cry me a river. Like you need to listen to this.”

“Well, when you get back up here, we’re gonna fix all that, okay?” Dean says firmly. Benny frowns and gives him the same look that Castiel had given him in Purgatory, when he’d said that he was making sure that the angel got out too.

“When I get back.”

“Yeah. You find the portal and you ride out of Purgatory with Sam just like you did with me, okay? As soon as I send you back, I'm gonna haul my ass up to Maine, and I'm gonna be waiting there for you when you get topside.”

“Yeah,” Benny says quietly. “That sounds like a plan, chief. Let’s get on with it.”

Dean regards Benny for a moment.

“You sure about this?” he says. Benny grins and shrugs.

“Not my first rodeo, man.”

Wishing desperately that he didn’t have to do this and cursing Ajay for going and dying on them, Dean reaches into Baby’s trunk to pull out a machete. He extends a hand to shake Benny’s but they end up giving each other a manly hug and slap on the back. Dean marvels at how this vampire ended up becoming one of his closest friends and he thinks that maybe – just maybe, in an alternate universe where Castiel didn’t exist – there might have been a thing between them. But no one can _ever_ compare to Castiel.

“Well, come on,” Benny teases. “You a wimp?”

Dean closes his eyes, takes a deep breath…and then swings. He winces when Benny’s body hits the ground but then leaps into action straight away, putting the machete back and fixing Baby’s false bottom in the trunk so that he can haul Benny’s body and head into it. Sparing Ajay’s car and corpse one last cursory look, he gets into the Impala and starts her up. He’s got a long drive ahead of him.

* * *

 

It takes a day and a half to get to Maine, and that’s with Dean speeding like hell on the way. He doesn’t want to stop for breaks but he’s forced to at least catch a few hours of shut-eye so that he doesn’t crash and render himself useless to everyone, and it’s dark by the time he smashes through the trees to the spot where the Purgatory portal lets out. In probably the only stroke of luck he’s had recently, he doesn’t have to wait long. A flash of light later and Sam’s stumbling around the place; easy prey for Dean to stride over and tug him into a tight hug.

“Purgatory, right?” Dean says with a forced grin. “Real garden spot, ain’t it?”

“Yeah,” Sam says quietly. He’s probably still in shock from escaping such a raw place; Dean had been the same after getting out last year. Hell, he hadn’t spoken to anyone apart from those campers he’d frightened until he resurrected Benny. Speaking of Benny…

“Did you get ‘em out?” Dean says. His stomach drops when Sam gives him a twisted little smile.

“Only Bobby.”

“What? I mean, that’s fantastic about Bobby, but –”

“Dean, look. Benny, uh…he got us out. A bunch of vamps showed and he used himself as bait. I get the feeling that even if that didn’t happen, he didn’t want to come back, you know? I’m sorry.”

It hurts like hell – nowhere near as much as Castiel staying behind, but definitely somewhere along those lines – but if Dean’s honest with himself, he’d kind of been expecting it since the look that Benny had given him when Dean had told him to come back.

“You’re probably right,” he finally says. “So, uh, Bobby…how – how’d he hold up down there?”

“He’s good, all things considered.” Sam cracks a small grin. “Ornery as hell, of course.”

Dean chuckles weakly.

“As he should be. Let’s put that old man where he belongs.”

In response, Sam rolls up his sleeve, takes out his knife, and starts to cut his glowing forearm while chanting the same incantation that Dean had used to free Benny. They both watch Bobby’s glowing blue-white soul ball rise…until it suddenly turns a muddy reddish-black colour.

“What the hell?” Dean cries.

“Hello, boys.” Crowley’s appeared out of nowhere and he has a smug little look on his face as he regards Bobby’s murky soul. “Bobby Singer. I’d know you anywhere.”

“Let him go, Crowley,” Dean growls. “He doesn’t belong in Hell!”

“He does if I say he does,” Crowley says firmly. “He’s inflicted untold damage on my kind. Actually, from where I sit, Hell’s too good for him.”

Furious, both Sam and Dean rush at Crowley. The demon just sighs and waves a finger to pin them both to nearby trees, then he smiles at Bobby’s soul, which is starting to be sucked back down to earth. All of a sudden, however, flashes of bright light start to shoot through it.

“Oh, come on!” Crowley snaps. Dean only has to wonder what’s going on for a moment before he notices Naomi, who has a pleased smirk on her face.

“Let me see if I've interpreted the situation correctly.” Her very voice makes Dean want to punch her lights out. “The Winchesters have freed an innocent from Hell, to which you are wrongfully trying to return it. Am I correct?”

The angel and demon banter for a few moments, until Crowley makes the mistake of calling Naomi a bureaucrat. This pisses her off to the point where she starts to glow and when she holds her hand out, Crowley decides to hightail out of there. His disappearance sends Sam and Dean crashing to the ground, no longer pinned by his powers, and all three of them watch Bobby’s soul soar towards Heaven. Naomi smiles at Dean.

“See? We’re on the same side,” she says. “Allies help each other. Now that I’ve helped you…how about you extend me the same courtesy and give me the angel tablet?”

“Dean, who is this?” Sam frowns. Dean’s jaw sets.

“Naomi,” he forces through gritted teeth. Sam’s face shifts from confusion, to realisation, to pure anger.

“I see that my reputation precedes me.” Naomi’s still smiling pleasantly and Dean would love nothing more than to wipe that smile off her face. “Think about it, Dean. We’re angels. We cannot read the angel tablet; only a prophet can. What safer place for the very thing that details our weaknesses than with us? Why would we want to exploit our own weaknesses?”

Despite the good points she makes, Dean refuses to trust her on principle. She hurt Castiel. Therefore, she’s bad. But Dean has to know that Castiel’s alive.  He has to know that his best friend – that his _angel_ – is okay. He ignores the small part of him that’s telling him that getting a glimpse of Castiel, only to have him torn away for not handing over the angel tablet that he doesn’t have, is going to be far more painful.

“Show me Cas,” he says. Sam shoots him a ‘what are you doing, Dean?’ look that he ignores. “I wanna see him before I agree to anything. I’m not handing over your hunk of rock till I can see him for myself.”

Naomi raises a composed eyebrow.

“Very well. Go ahead with your trial. I will be back.”

She vanishes. Sam immediately rounds on Dean.

“What the hell, dude?” he hisses. “You can’t give her the tablet! You don’t even know where Cas hid it!”

“I’m not gonna give it to her!” Dean says. “I just…I gotta see him, okay? I’m goin’ crazy, not knowing where Cas is or what they’re doing to him. Just get on with the freaking trial!”

Sam’s mouth compresses into a sympathetic line. Thankfully, rather than saying anything, he takes out the piece of paper with the Enochian incantation and starts to chant it. With the last syllable, he suddenly grabs at his right arm and falls to his knees, groaning in pain, and Dean’s immediately by his side.

“Sam?” he babbles, his ‘protect Sammy’ instincts going into hyperdrive. “What? Talk to me! What?”

He grabs Sam’s shoulder but is brushed off.

“It’s okay! It’s okay! I’m fine! It’s done.”

Suddenly, the sound of rustling wings fills the air. Both of them turn to see that Naomi’s back – and, slumped on his knees in front of her, is Castiel.

“Cas!” Dean leaps towards him but is stopped by Naomi curling her elegant fingers in his dark hair and pulling. Castiel’s head rises and Dean’s stomach churns unpleasantly when he sees the tears of blood running down Castiel’s cheeks, and how his eyes are darting around everywhere as though searching for an escape route.

“Dean?” Castiel croaks. Dean’s heart breaks in that moment. If only he hadn’t screwed around with Castiel’s head and said that shit to him…none of this would have happened! “Is – is that you?”

“It’s me, buddy.” Dean knows how vulnerable he’s coming across as but he can’t find it in himself to care. “It’s okay. You’re gonna be fine.”

“Well, I’ve upheld my end of the bargain,” Naomi cuts in smoothly. “Now you keep your end. Tell me where to find the angel tablet.”

“Dean…no…don’t tell her…” Castiel lets out a sharp gasp when Naomi yanks his hair. Dean immediately starts to approach her, so she pulls out her angel blade and positions it at Castiel’s throat.

“What the hell?” Dean barks. Naomi favours him with a small smile.

“Let’s be honest with each other, Dean. I know you appreciate honesty and straightforwardness. I’m only on your side as far as the trials of Hell. Otherwise? I could not care less about you. So tell me where the angel tablet is, or Castiel dies.”

She digs the blade into Castiel’s throat. Castiel makes a small noise and tries to shy away from it, but Naomi’s hand in his hair prevents him from doing so.

“Quickly, now. You’re wasting my time.”

When she draws small, dark beads of blood from Castiel’s throat, Dean can’t take it anymore.

“I don’t know, okay?” he shouts. “Cas hid it from all of us! I got no clue where it is!”

The look on Naomi’s face would be utterly hilarious if she wasn’t holding Castiel hostage. Dean’s terrified that she’s going to slit Castiel’s throat but before she can do anything to Castiel, she’s ambushed from behind; Sam, the sneaky son of a bitch, had apparently dropped out of sight while Dean and Naomi were talking and now he tackles her to the ground, freeing Castiel, who slumps over. Dean’s kneeling by his side in a heartbeat, cupping his face and gently urging him to look up.

“Get Cas outta here!” Sam shouts. “I’ll hold her off!”

Dean’s head whips around.

“Sam –”

“She won’t kill me! She wants the gates of Hell shut as much as we do, and she knows Crowley won’t let us do the trials again if she kills me!”

Sam’s right, but it doesn’t mean that Dean likes the idea. Still, desperate to keep Castiel safe, he hauls the angel to his feet and tugs him away towards the Impala, while Sam holds Naomi off. Dean’s not worried about Sam dying; like Sam said, she needs him alive for the trials. But that doesn’t mean that she won’t just take him as collateral and force Dean to get the third trial out of Kevin before sending Sam off to fulfil it – with torture as part of the package beforehand.

Thankfully, he’s got Naomi busy enough that Dean can easily get Castiel away to Baby. Once there, he finally allows himself to relax and wait for Sam. If Sam can’t hold off Naomi then it won’t matter if Dean’s a few more miles away because she’ll catch him easily.

“Cas? You okay?” he says. Castiel lets out a pitiful little groan and sluggishly raises his head to look at Dean. At the sight of the angel’s familiar bright blue eyes, which are glazed over, Dean’s entire resolve crumbles. Raising Castiel’s chin gently with one hand, he leans in and presses their lips together in a sweet little kiss. Castiel makes a choked sound and tries to lean into it as best as he can in his weakened state, so Dean compensates by putting in most of the effort.

“God, Cas, I was so worried,” he gasps, peppering Castiel’s mouth with kisses. “I’m so fucking sorry. So sorry. I screwed you over, man.”

Castiel makes another soft noise. Dean starts to kiss his cheeks, ignoring the metallic tang of blood from the crimson tear tracks down the angel’s face.

“I want you so fucking much,” Dean says desperately. “I’m sorry. I want you, Cas. I’m so sorry.”

“Dean…” Castiel whispers. His eyes start to slide shut and he sags against Dean, who catches him easily. “I…I want you too. Thinking of you…kept me going. Helped me resist.”

Dean’s stomach is filled with butterflies. He’s just about to start kissing Castiel again when footsteps sound. The next minute, Sam bursts through the trees.

“She’s gone!” he wheezes. “Banished her!”

Dean springs into action. It won’t be long before Naomi’s back and out for blood, so he bundles Castiel into the backseat as quickly as he can and turns around to shove Baby’s keys at Sam. Sam’s eyebrows rise all the way to his hairline.

“We dunno what they did to him,” Dean says desperately. “I gotta make sure he doesn’t get worse.”

Thankfully, Sam doesn’t say anything as Dean slides into the back after Castiel and buckles them both in, then holds the angel against him. Instead, he jumps into the driver’s seat and then they’re off. Back home.


	11. Chapter 11

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Disclaimer: I don’t own SPN.
> 
> SMUUUUUT.
> 
> Thanks to LokiNeedsHugs1031, CassFear84, Dean_The_princess_Winchester, eternallyheartbeating, Darmys and tfw_cas for your comments :)

 

They stop several hours later to fill Baby up with gas and grab some shitty snacks from the gas station. Castiel has slipped into a light doze, though the jolt of the car stopping is enough to wake him up, despite Dean fervently trying to get him to go back to sleep. As relieving as it is to see Castiel awake, the longer he’s out like a light, the longer Dean can put off facing him – a more in-depth confrontation than their brief one outside the car while Sam fought off Naomi. He’s a freaking coward, he knows, but hey, he’s owning it.

“Dean?” Castiel’s voice is thick with sleep. “Where – where are we?”

“Couple of hours outta Maine.” Dean holds Castiel tighter. “Go back to sleep, Cas.” An unpleasant thought suddenly hits him. “Why _are_ you sleeping? Last time you slept was when you were falling…”

“I’m fine, Dean,” Castiel hurries to assure. “I am fully angel. I’m just…so very tired…”

His head droops onto Dean’s shoulder. Dean’s nostrils are suddenly invaded with the smell of honey and he wants nothing more than to bury his nose in that mop of dark, messy hair and just keep sniffing it, but he’s not sure what he’s allowed to do. He counts himself lucky that Castiel had allowed and reciprocated the kisses outside the car earlier, but he doesn’t want to do any more ‘romantic stuff’ until he knows where Castiel stands. Groggy Castiel doesn’t have full mental awareness and for all Dean knows, Castiel might want nothing to do with him once the angel’s fully recovered. Not that Dean would blame him. Everyone close to him ends up dead or fucked over, so Castiel would be smart to ditch that burning plane while he still can.

“‘S okay, Cas. Just sleep,” Dean says soothingly. Absently, he notices that one of his hands has threaded in Castiel’s hair, stroking softly. He immediately stops but this only elicits a tiny groan of protest from Castiel.

“Keep…doing that,” Castiel murmurs. “Feels…nice. Grounding…”

Dean starts stroking his hair again. Castiel lets out a content little sigh and snuggles further into Dean’s side and by the time Sam’s back with their gas and snacks, Castiel is out like a light again. Dean narrows his eyes at Sam.

“Not one word,” he growls. Sam holds his hands up in surrender, lips twitching.

“What?” he says. “It’s kinda adorable. You never let me sleep on you like that unless I’m bleeding out.”

Dean’s stomach does an unpleasant twist. He prays to God that Castiel doesn’t have any internal injuries that might be screwing around with his grace; they don’t know what tools Naomi uses to torture, or how they affect angels.

“Well, he shouldn’t even be sleeping,” Dean says, harsher than he intended. Sam grimaces in sympathy and thankfully drops the subject in favour of starting the car.

* * *

 

Though Sam doesn’t drive nearly as fast and recklessly as Dean does, he still makes good time in getting them back to the bunker. He parks them in the garage and then comes around the back to help Dean get Castiel out of the car. Dean’s tempted to go all Edward Cullen and growl possessively but the rational part of him knows that Sam helping is a good idea. The quicker Castiel is inside, the quicker he can lie down.

“Do you want me to go make up a spare room?” Sam says. He hasn’t been looking too good since completing the second trial; his skin is pasty white, his eyes are stuck in a perpetual squint, and he looks like he’s going to pass out at any moment.

“Nah, he can sleep in my bed,” Dean decides. Not only does he not want Sam to have to expend effort on making up another bed but he wants Castiel close to him, to keep an eye on him (and to indulge his guilty pleasure). He gets the feeling that Castiel wants to be close to him too, judging by how the semi-conscious angel is clinging to him like a baby monkey.

“Okay, then.”

Dean eyes Sam, who’s staring at him with an unreadable look.

“Oh, come on!” he snarls. “You really think I’d do anything to Cas in this state? I just want him close by in case he starts getting worse and I don’t have to keep checking up on him and maybe miss something!”

Sam shrugs guiltily.

“I know you wouldn’t do anything to him,” he says. “I just hope you’re not planning on pushing him away again, because he’s getting seriously close right about now.”

Dean’s stomach does a flip-flop.

“Don’t worry,” he says firmly. “I ain’t going anywhere. I’m not gonna do that to Cas again.”

Sam nods in satisfaction. Dean suddenly feels the urge to get one over the tall nerd.

“Go get some shut-eye before you fall over,” he says. “You look like shit. That trial took a lot out of you.”

Sam gives a sort of shrug and rubs his eyes.

“Yeah. Think I’m gonna go crash…”

Sam strides off towards the hallway. Dean follows, supporting Castiel as best as he can and murmuring soft words of encouragement as he guides the angel towards his room. Once there, he gently deposits Castiel on the bed and then starts to paw at the stupid trench coat he always wears.

“Dean…?” Castiel whispers. Dean kneels to meet his eyes, ignoring how his insides feel like he’s stuck in a dropping elevator.

“‘S okay, Cas,” he says, caressing Castiel’s cheek with one hand. “Just trying to make you more comfortable. You’ll sleep better without all these layers.”

Castiel’s glazed blue eyes squint at him for about ten seconds before he finally nods. With the angel’s permission, Dean resumes undressing him, stripping him down to his crisp white shirt. He’s tempted to take that off too and give Castiel an old T-shirt of his to wear, but he’s not sure if he’s allowed to see Castiel half-naked yet. And besides, he’d have to do the same to give Castiel some sweatpants, and he’s not comfortable seeing Castiel without pants in his vulnerable state. Sam’s his brother, so he’s never had a problem with that. But Castiel…Castiel’s different. He means just as much to Dean but in an entirely different way – a way that’s Dean always been terrified of.

After undoing Castiel’s blue tie and then stripping off his shoes and socks, leaving the angel in just his white shirt and black slacks, Dean pulls back the covers and gently manhandles Castiel underneath them. Castiel stares up at him through lidded eyes as he tucks the angel in, and then he stands to the side awkwardly.

“Are you…going to get in?” Castiel asks. Dean nearly jumps.

“What? I mean – only if you’re comfortable,” he says awkwardly. Castiel snorts weakly.

“How else are you –” he yawns, “– how else are you going to monitor me?”

“Smartass,” Dean says fondly, rolling his eyes. He makes quick work of stripping off all his layers, feeling Castiel’s eyes boring into his back as he does so, before throwing on an old shirt and a pair of sweatpants and climbs into bed beside Castiel. Castiel immediately gravitates to him like a heat-seeking missile, wrapping his arms around Dean’s stomach and snuggling into him as closely as possible, nuzzling into the crook of Dean’s neck. Dean’s stomach is probably in a tighter knot than the Gordian knot.

“Thank you, Dean.” Castiel’s voice is almost unintelligible. “I lo –”

“Shh,” Dean says quickly. He can’t hear those words now – not after what Castiel’s just been through because of him. “Just sleep. Tell me when you’re better.”

Castiel huffs quietly but seems to agree, because his chest is rising and falling slowly a few minutes later. Dean stares down at the angel with equal parts adoration and terror, then closes his eyes to try and get some sleep of his own.

* * *

 

Dean had expected it to take days for Castiel to recover, so he’s pleasantly surprised when he wakes up and sees sharp, bright blue eyes staring right at him. He’s long ago stopped being surprised or startled by this; Castiel’s always had this habit of watching him while he sleeps, even though he can’t understand why the angel would find him even remotely interesting. Before Dean can think about it, his face splits into a wide grin.

“Hey,” he says. He’s gifted with a rare, wide smile from Castiel in reply.

“Hello, Dean,” Castiel says. He looks completely back to normal; no bloody tears, no ashen face, and no struggling to stay awake. Behind those eyes, Dean can see the alert warrior of God that he’d fallen for and, before he can stop himself, he grabs Castiel’s face and pulls him in for…well, he’s lost count of what number kiss this is. He’s thrilled when Castiel makes a pleased sound and kisses back, wriggling closer until he’s practically lying on top of Dean. Dean’s expecting a big gay panic over having another man on top of himself but he finds, to his surprise, that he actually likes having Castiel’s weight on top of him. It feels like home.

“I’m sorry,” Dean says breathlessly when they separate. “I’m so sorry, Cas. I fucked you around and you got caught.”

“You were struggling with your emotions, Dean.” Castiel reaches out and brushes strands of hair off Dean’s forehead. “I should have given you time to come to terms with your feelings.”

“But you did. I’m the stupid son of a bitch who kept screwing with your head.”

Castiel studies him for a moment. His next words floor Dean.

“I love you, Dean.”

Dean gapes. It’s not like it’s a huge secret, how Castiel feels about him. But it’s one thing to have the angel keep getting cut off when he tries to say it, and another to actually hear him say those three words without interruption.

“I –” Dean swallows, working his throat, trying to say those words back, but whatever strength he’d had back in the crypt has abandoned him and he can’t seem to force the words out. He groans and tugs at his hair in frustration. “Why can’t I fucking say it? I said it before!”

Castiel silences him with a kiss. Dean’s really starting to love this new way of communication and he starts to wonder what he has to say in order to get Castiel to shut him up this way.

“It’s okay, Dean,” Castiel says. “You said it to me once. I don’t mind if you never say it again.”

But that’s not good enough for Dean. He has to show Castiel that he does love him; that he didn’t just say those words in the crypt to snap him out of his brainwashing. He might be fucked up enough that he can’t say one damn word, but he sure as hell can show Castiel just how he feels.

“I gotta show you,” Dean says.

“You don’t need to prove anything to me, Dean.”

“No, I _have_ to!” Dean presses a wild kiss to Castiel’s lips, holding his head in place firmly yet tenderly. “You don’t get it, Cas. I’ve never felt like this for anyone before. Not this strongly, anyway. You – I gotta show you.”

Castiel frowns, as though he’s deciphering a puzzle. Dean’s insides churn nervously when Castiel’s eyes light up with understanding.

“Sex,” he concludes. Dean gives an uncomfortable shrug.

“Don’t have to go for a full-on roll in the sack if you don’t want to,” he says. “But I wanna at least try and show you how I – how I feel.”

Fantastic. He’s turning into a fucking _chick_. This is why Dean Winchester doesn’t have ‘conversations about feelings’.

“A roll in the sack?” Castiel says in confusion. “Is that a euphemism? There are no sacks in the bunker.”

Dean closes his eyes, because Castiel is making this way more difficult than it should be. Even though it’d be way easier to explain this to a human, there’s something oddly endearing about how Castiel is so smart, so wise, in nearly everything, and yet the finer points of human society and slang evade him.

“A roll in the sack is sex,” Dean explains. Castiel’s eyes never leave his; in fact, Dean can practically _feel_ the angel absorbing every little bit of information, keen to learn everything he can about humans and their ways. “Like, full-on sex.”

“Intercourse?” Castiel adds. Dean nods and Castiel shakes his head. “It puzzles me why humans cannot simply just say what they mean and why they feel the need to dance around issues.”

Dean snorts.

“You don’t exactly go around talking about sex,” he says. “Bit of discretion, y’know. I forgot you’re an innocent little flower.”

He grins at Castiel, who narrows his eyes.

“Stop teasing me, Dean, and just show me,” Castiel growls. His voice goes straight to Dean’s lower regions, sending a spike of heat shooting through him, and before he knows what he’s doing, he’s kissing Castiel more insistently than any other time they’ve kissed and the heat that’s shooting through him starts to intensify. He’d planned on being a gentleman and taking things slow for Castiel, who’s an inexperienced virgin in these matters…but then Castiel’s lips part and his tongue darts into Dean’s mouth and yep, game fucking over.

“Jesus Christ,” Dean gasps when he pulls back for air. Castiel growls again.

“I would appreciate you not talking about my half-brother in bed,” he says in a low rumble. Dean grins cheekily up at him.

“Aye aye, captain,” the man says. Castiel gives him a long-suffering look.

“You are insufferable.”

“And you could be kissing the shit out of me right now.”

Castiel shifts to get a better angle as he returns to kissing Dean, but this has the side-effect of grinding their hips together – and not only does this set sparks off in Dean’s crotch, but he cops a feel of the bulge in Castiel’s pants as well and both of them groan at the sensation. And unless the angel’s packing a roll of quarters in his pocket, that’s definitely a dick in there. Dean panics for all of two seconds before shoving that little voice of gay panic aside and drawing Castiel back down for another kiss. He’s gone through too much to just throw what he’s got with Castiel away, and a sexuality crisis isn’t going to ruin it.

 _‘Besides, you can like both,’_ a voice suggests helpfully. Dean shuts it up. He’s known about bisexuality for years; known that it’s possible to like more than one gender. But accepting that part of him would mean accepting that he’s into dick as well as pussy – and between his dad’s mindset of ‘gay is okay so long as it ain’t my boys’ and his terrifying feelings for Castiel, it’s been easier to just shove that part of him aside and pretend it doesn’t exist. But now, with Castiel on top of him and in his mouth and invading his nostrils and just _everywhere_ , he feels like all of those suppressed feelings are rushing out in one wave.

“Dean.” Castiel sounds wrecked already. “Can – do you –”

He’s fumbling with the waistband of Dean’s sweatpants. Grinning, having done this song and dance so many times before, Dean reaches down to help out and raises his hips to let Castiel manhandle him out of his pants and boxers, leaving his swollen cock proudly standing at attention. The way Castiel’s staring at it with a gleam in his eye both arouses Dean even more and fills him with anticipation…until he realises that all Castiel is doing is just staring.

“Are you gonna actually touch it?” he bursts out. “I’m not some fancy museum exhibit, Cas. You _can_ touch.”

“Beautiful,” Castiel murmurs. “Everything about you is.”

Dean’s cheeks flush and heat up.

“Shut up,” he complains, tugging at Castiel’s dark slacks to unbutton them. Castiel wriggles out of them once they’re undone, leaving him in just plain white boxers, and Dean groans when he sees the obscene tenting going on in the middle of the circus.

“Son of a bitch.” He reaches out and runs his hands over the bulge. Castiel lets out a soft sound and arches into Dean’s touch and so, encouraged by this, Dean squeezes. This makes Castiel actually cry out.

“Dean!”

“Shit, if you told me I’d be touching another guy’s dick, I’d have punched your lights out.” He hooks his fingers underneath the waistband of Castiel’s boxers and tugs them off, Castiel clumsily trying to help, and then wraps a leg around Castiel’s waist and pulls him down. He groans again at the sharp sensations that spike in his aching cock but Castiel – little innocent Castiel – has clearly never done this before and he gasps and starts to grind down feverishly.

“Oh, God,” Dean chokes. Castiel doesn’t even reprimand him on using God’s name in vain; instead, he’s too focused on rubbing his pelvis against Dean’s as hard and fast as he can, letting out small whimpers and pants which graduate into long, low moans when Dean starts to thrust back.

“Dean,” Castiel nearly sobs. “Dean, I don’t – these sensations are so strong –” He thrusts harder, burying his face in Dean’s shoulder and sinking his teeth into the flesh there. Dean hisses and grabs handfuls of Castiel’s ass to squeeze, trying to deal with just how freaking _overwhelming_ everything is. Yeah, sex has always felt amazing, but it’s never felt like _this_ before. He’s never felt so strongly for his partner before. Even with Cassie, who he’d been in love with, it hadn’t felt this intense!

“Feels, good, right?” Dean pants. There’s heat starting to pool in his stomach and his spine’s starting to tingle and he’s no longer got control over his own body. He’s on autopilot, rutting up against Castiel as hard as he can, desperately seeking that finish with the angel. They’re coming up to a cliff fast and instead of being terrified of the fall, he wants to fling himself right off with Castiel and let the angel catch him – because Castiel is one of the only people he trusts to do so.

“Deeeean!” Castiel whines. “I – I feel so strange!”

“Yeah?” Dean bites his lip, moving one hand from Castiel’s ass to grab a large fistful of the angel’s dark hair and making him gasp in shock when his hair is pulled sharply. “How?”

“I – it’s so hot.” Castiel’s wrecked voice is full of wonder. “So hot and – and bright. Dean – please, I can’t – I want to –”

He stiffens. Dean only has a moment’s warning before Castiel’s crying a muffled, “ _Deeeeeeeeaaaan_!” into his shoulder and coming, spurting white ropes all over Dean. This does it for Dean and he grunts as he comes too, digging his fingers into Castiel’s scalp and the flesh of his ass and arching up. He sinks back into the bed once his orgasm fades, with his muscles feeling like jelly and with Castiel’s weight nicely settled on him.

They lie in silence together, panting and gasping and trying to catch their breaths. Dean’s running his fingers through Castiel’s dark, sweaty hair, almost cradling his head, while his other hand strokes up and down Castiel’s back. Castiel, it seems, is too exhausted to do anything except lie in Dean’s arms and nuzzle into his neck, pressing sweet little kisses to his skin.

“That was amazing,” Castiel finally breathes. “I felt it, Dean. I felt your love. Now I see why people enjoy this act so much.”

Dean looks down and a swooping sensation forms in his gut when he sees lidded eyes staring back at him. Only this time, the glazed blue isn’t from torture but from pleasure, and it fills Dean with pride to be the reason for Castiel feeling so good right now. After all the shit Castiel’s been through, he deserves this; he deserves to feel loved.

“Dude, that’s not even the best part,” Dean grins dopily, leaning down to plant a quick kiss on Castiel’s forehead. “Trust me, sex gets way better than that.”

Castiel sighs happily and slides off Dean so that he can snuggle into the man’s side. They’re both still wearing their shirts, which are now streaked with come, but as Dean pulls the covers up over their bodies and holds his angel close to him, he can’t find it in himself to care.

“I love you, Dean,” Castiel says with another happy sigh. Dean’s arms tighten around him. Why had he denied himself this? Why had he been so hung up on keeping Castiel away? It’s probably just the post-orgasm endorphins talking, but he can’t for the life of him remember why he was so insistent on keeping Castiel at arm’s length when he could have been making the angel – _his_ angel – this damn happy.

“Same here, angel.”


	12. Chapter 12

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Disclaimer: I don’t own SPN.
> 
> Thanks to LokiNeedsHugs1031, CassFear84, eternallyheartbeating, Dragonfli, JeffreyDeanMorgans_wife, Darmys, Dean_The_princess_Winchester, tfw_cas and SophiaWhoLock for your comments :)

 

The next month passes in a blur of action. Between Kevin going missing and a case involving Charlie Bradbury, her vegetative mother, and fear djinns (which an annoyed Castiel had said that he could have been dealt with in minutes had he been allowed to come along, to which Dean had retorted that they weren’t going to expose him to Heaven for too long if they could help it – not to mention that his grace had been on the blink since this recent round of torture), they’ve had a lot on their plate. Though one bright spot is when Charlie gets to meet Castiel while enlisting them for the case.

 _“You’re Castiel?_ The _Castiel? Smitey angel of the Lord?” Charlie said, staring at Castiel in awe. Castiel shot Dean a puzzled look._

_“Uh…yes. I am Castiel,” Castiel said after a moment. Charlie beamed widely at him._

_“You’re so much dreamier in person!”_

_“Hey, hey!” Dean reprimanded. “Stick with your own team, okay? He’s taken. And I don’t share.”_

_When Castiel looked at him in confusion, he quietly explained that Charlie was a lesbian and that ‘sticking with your own team’ meant being attracted to your own gender. Meanwhile, Charlie squealed loudly and started gushing about how, “Destiel_ is _real!” and, “Oh my gosh, you guys, you’re making me fangirl!” and, “I_ knew _all that subtext about you being bi wasn’t just my imagination, Dean!”_

_Dean was less than happy with that last one._

But now they finally have a lead on Kevin’s location – and it isn’t a good one. It comes in the form of an automatic email, with a video message from Kevin explaining that if they do get this message, it means he’s dead or captured. As the message plays and Kevin gets visibly tearful and curses them for dragging him into everything, Dean’s heart slowly breaks and he pointedly doesn’t look at Castiel, who he knows can tell exactly what he’s thinking. But what he’s thinking is true: it _is_ his fault that Kevin’s dead. He should’ve done more to look out for Kevin, maybe even relocated him here to keep him safe instead of just dumping him on Garth and only calling when he needed translations.

“The one thing I know is that I won’t break this time,” Kevin says with conviction. “Not sure how I know, but – but I do. I’ve been uploading all my notes, the translations…I’m sending you the links so you can get all of it. You guys are gonna have to try to figure out the rest. I’m sorry…I know it was my job but I – I couldn’t…I’m sorry.”

The video ends. Shaking with self-loathing and fury, Dean turns and swipes a stack of books off the table.

“Dammit!” he shouts. He feels a hand on his back, touching him with so much gentleness that he doesn’t deserve, and he flinches and slaps it away.

“Don’t touch me!” he snaps at Castiel. The angel withdraws, visibly hurt, and Dean wilts and rubs his face with one hand. “I – sorry. But see? This is why I’m not good for you!”

Castiel tries to talk – probably to launch into a spiel about how Dean does deserve love and how he’s not a toxic person – but Dean cuts him off by stabbing a finger at Sam.

“You. Print Kevin’s notes. I’m gonna call around.”

Ignoring Castiel’s attempts at a conversation, he calls up every hunter he knows in the area to try and track down Garth. But the guy’s still MIA, much to Dean’s utter frustration. Why can’t he do anything right?

“How about the other prophets in line?” Sam says. “I mean, if Kevin is, uh…dead, then won’t one of them be activated?”

He looks at Castiel for confirmation. Castiel gives a short nod.

“Yes. If Kevin was dead, the next prophet in line would be activated.” The angel’s eyes seem to glaze over for a moment. “Donatello Redfield. Fifty seven years of age. Lives in Lewis, Oklahoma. He has not been activated yet, so Kevin is still alive.”

“Yeah, and in Crowley’s slimy clutches,” Dean says bitterly. “We should’ve moved him here. We shouldn’t have just left him!”

“Dean –”

“No!” Dean slaps Castiel’s hand away again. “Don’t _touch_ me!”

Castiel scowls at him. The next minute, two fingers are pressed to his forehead and, in a dizzying swirl, he finds himself in his room with Castiel. Well, _their_ room. It’s been their room since the two of them had dry-humped each other (among other things that Dean has taken it upon himself to teach Castiel since then) and Sam had tried to pretend that he didn’t know what was going on.

“Maybe _ask_ next time you go zapping me around?” Dean snarls. He knows he’s being unfair on Castiel but dammit, this is exactly why he doesn’t let people close to him! Why can’t Castiel see that?

“I understand, Dean,” Castiel says. “I understand that you feel personally responsible for all of our safety. But you must unshoulder some of that burden. This massive weight should not rest solely on you.”

Dean just looks at the floor. A hand under his chin forces him to raise his head again and when he meets Castiel’s blue eyes, all he sees is affection and…and love.

“I know that you are blaming yourself for Kevin’s abduction,” Castiel continues. “But don’t. You are always so quick to take responsibility, but you are never easy on yourself. You never forgive yourself. And I cannot for the life of me understand why.”

Dean tries to look away again but again, Castiel’s hand gently guides his face back. He’s pinned by those bright blue eyes, unable to move under the sheer weight of the love he can see in them, and he once again wonders just what the hell he did to deserve this angel, when there are plenty of other people out there far more deserving than him.

Then Castiel steps forward, starts to kiss him, and all he can think of is those perfect lips pressed against his own. He resists, not wanting to reward himself for his failure to protect Kevin, but Castiel is remarkably stubborn and refuses to go anywhere.

“If you truly don’t want to sleep with me, then I will back off,” Castiel murmurs, tracing Dean’s bottom lip with his thumb. Dean shivers violently. “But if you are depriving yourself of this simply because you feel that you have failed and don’t deserve this, please don’t. You _do_ deserve to be loved, Dean. You _do_ deserve to be taken care of. Please. Let me show you.”

Dean closes his eyes so that he doesn’t have to see the raw affection on Castiel’s eyes. He’s punished for this by kisses being peppered all over his face – over his cheeks, his nose, his eyelids, his forehead. His resolve is crumbling and Cas – that fucker – knows it, because he plants one more gentle kiss right on Dean’s lips.

“Okay,” Dean finally whispers, his will shattering. Castiel gives him a smile, then kisses him again with more force and carefully manoeuvres him to the bed, where he pushes Dean down. Every touch, from his kisses to how he guides Dean further up the bed, is careful and delicate, as though Dean is a fragile thing that must be handled with caution. If this were anyone else, Dean would throw a fit at being treated like something breakable. But this is Castiel, and Castiel seems to get away with a lot when it comes to Dean.

“Sit up,” Castiel instructs softly, unbuttoning Dean’s plaid shirt. Dean sits up to allow Castiel to tug his plaid off and then his T-shirt, before he’s lowered back down and Castiel’s lips are attached to Dean’s collar as if by a magnet. As Castiel kisses down Dean’s bare chest, every touch feather-light and loving, Dean closes his eyes so that he doesn’t have to watch something he doesn’t deserve. He even hates himself for relaxing into Castiel’s touch and allowing the angel to do this, rather than doing what he should and keeping Castiel at arm’s length to avoid him getting hurt.

“I don’t – I can’t, Cas,” he mumbles feebly. Castiel takes a pert nipple into his mouth and suckles, scraping the nub between his teeth, and Dean hisses and arches into the touch, eyes squeezed shut. “Cas, I don’t – I don’t deserve this. I _don’t_.”

He’s disappointed when Castiel stops sucking on his nipple, but a small, dark corner of his mind is relieved.

“I’m a fuck-up, Cas. Always have been, always will be. And if you stick around…Cas, if you don’t leave my sorry ass, you’re gonna get hurt. Everyone I love dies!”

Dean doesn’t realise that he’s crying until Castiel’s hand caresses his cheek and dampness is spread across it. He tries to turn his head, to hide how he’s crying like a fucking baby, but Castiel still won’t allow him to hide and ensures that Dean can’t turn away by cupping his face with both hands.

“Dean. Open your eyes.”

Dean doesn’t want to, but he knows that Castiel is going to convince him to anyway and the more sappiness and cheesiness he can avoid, the better. His stomach drops when he sees how fucking sad Castiel’s eyes are, and how his mouth is drooping, and if he thought that Castiel would let him get away with it, he’d punch himself in the face for putting that look on Castiel’s face.

“You don’t think you deserve to be loved,” Castiel murmurs after a moment of examining Dean. “But you do, Dean. You are so worthy. You are the Righteous Man, and you saved me from Heaven. You didn’t drag me down. I chose to come to you, and I will always choose you.”

He leans down and brushes his lips against Dean’s. Until the day he dies, Dean will deny whimpering and leaning up into the touch to beg for more.

“Please, Dean. Stop holding on to all of this self-loathing. Let me take care of you. Don’t push me away, because I’m not going anywhere.”

Finally, Dean nods. When he does come, with a tender hand and loving eyes and worshipping lips, it’s a near-silent affair, punctuated only by a gasp and an arch of his back. When Castiel lowers himself down to lie next to Dean, he’s grabbed in strong arms and squeezed in a desperate embrace.

As he’d promised Dean, he doesn’t go anywhere.

* * *

 

They don’t emerge from their room for hours. When Dean finally ventures out, leaving Castiel lying peacefully in bed in a sort of meditative trance, he finds Sam with a whole library of notes and books around him.

“Cas calm you down?” Sam says with an odd smile. Dean’s saved the trouble of making a smart remark by Sam launching into a coughing fit, splattering blood into a tissue that he tosses aside into a small pile of others.

“You sure you’re doing okay?” Dean says worriedly. Sam waves a dismissive hand.

“Not like I’m gonna get any better until I do the third trial. But I’ve been studying Kevin’s notes and – look at this.”

Dean strides over to look at the symbol that Sam’s pointing at. It’s an odd, three-spiral shape that he’s never seen before in his life and he wonders what the hell it could mean.

“See that? Kevin has it down as – as sort of a signature for the Scribe of God. It appears every time Metatron makes one of his – uh – editor’s notes.”

Dean has no clue what this ‘symbol of Metatron’ has to do with finding Kevin.

“But I think I’ve seen it before. I mean, it was a long time ago. It was one of my, uh, humanities courses at Stanford.”

A dull shock runs through Dean when he hears that word. God, it feels like millennia ago that Sam was just a college kid wanting to get into law school…and now he’s been possessed by the Devil himself and is trying to close the gates of Hell. Dean wants to feel guilty for dragging Sam back into the life, but he knows that Sam will insist that he chose to come – and besides, he remembers the lesson that Castiel had very painstakingly taught him before.

“They taught Word of God at Stanford?” is what he finally says. Sam shakes his head.

“No, uh, it was an overview of Native American art – I think it’s a petroglyph.”

“A _what_?”

In reply, Sam locates a book and finds this symbol of Metatron inside as belonging to a small tribe in Colorado, who held on to their land when the white men invaded. Sam excitedly says that they have to go and check it out and though Dean tries to get Sam to stay behind, he knows it’s a lost cause.

“Fine!” He throws his hands up. “But we’re not goin’ now. It’s getting late, we’re all hungry and outta food, and I got a seriously hot angel waiting for me in bed who I owe a blowjob.”

“Gross, Dean!” Sam exclaims, wrinkling his nose. Dean cackles and ruffles Sam’s hair.

“I’m gonna go get some pizza. Freaking sucks that they don’t deliver here.”

“Yes, I’m sure that a secret underground bunker is in the phone book,” Sam says dryly. Dean just smirks at him.

“Be back in an hour. Don’t go rubbing yourself on the books while I’m gone.”

The sweet sound of Sam’s indignant cries is music to his ears as he heads for the garage.

* * *

 

By the time he cruises into town, night has fully fallen and the only people out and about are either last minute shoppers like him, or people going to get drunk or picked up at the tiny local bar. Maybe even both.

After ordering the pizza, he decides to go and do some light grocery shopping to take care of this persistent problem of not having anything in the cupboards or fridge at the bunker. He easily finds a park outside the supermarket, but as he draws closer, he grows suspicious. It’s…quiet. Almost too quiet, especially considering that he saw people entering only a minute ago. His hand drops to his hidden gun, even though he doesn’t pull it out, and he goes inside slowly, eyes flicking all around. It’s dead silent and the only lights that are on are those immediately around him.

“What the…?” he mumbles. Suddenly, the lights flicker and go out and he whips out his gun and whirls in all directions, his finger twitching on the trigger. But he can’t see anything…at least, not until the lights turn back on. Then he sees somebody he’d really rather not see.

“Hello, Dean.” Unlike when Castiel says it, Naomi’s voice is devoid of warmth. And unlike Castiel, her smile is completely fake. “It took us a while, but finally we tracked you down. We’ve been trying to find the location of your warded hideout since you killed Esper and Ion. And we thought you might visit here as soon as we felt that you were leaving that little hole.”

“Good for you! You want a cookie or something?” Dean says mockingly, already planning an escape route. He’s not going to call Castiel – no way is he going to put his angel anywhere near Naomi. He doesn’t have any sort of weapon that could hurt her, short of stealing her own blade from her, and he curses not being prepared when he _knows_ that angels are after Castiel. He should’ve guessed that they would go for him as well.

It’s a weird feeling, not being the one who’s hunted down for once and being the one used to get to someone else instead of the other way around, and he isn’t sure if he likes it.

“Come now, Dean.” Naomi’s all smiles and friendliness. “You know what we want. And I’m certain that you’re telling the truth about not knowing its true location.”

“Yeah? So what’s this little get-together for?” He could try just running for her and hoping that he takes her by surprise, but that’s practically suicide. And the minute he even looks like he’s going to take off, Naomi’s angelic reflexes are sure to kick in.

“I want you to come with me, Dean. No matter what I do to Castiel – no matter how many times I drill it into his mind, or condition him – he _never_ learns. He _never_ does as he’s told! He’s the angel with a crack in his chassis.”

“Funny how he’s better than all of you pole-up-your-ass schmucks combined, then,” Dean says darkly. His only hope is to try and draw a banishing sigil without her noticing. Naomi gives him a humourless smile.

“You humans do have an interesting sense of humour. Now, come along, Dean.”

“What if I don’t? You gonna make me?”

Naomi’s smile widens and she clicks her fingers. All of the lights in the supermarket flicker back on and, looking around, Dean’s horrified to see people lying on the ground – whether dead or unconscious, he doesn’t know.

“They aren’t dead,” Naomi assures him. “Not yet, anyway. But their lives rest in your hands, Dean. If you come with me willingly, I’ll spare them. But if I have to fight to take you, they die. All of them. I’ll burn their eyes out and leave them to rot.”

A sick stone settles in Dean’s stomach. He’s got no choice now; there’s no way he can get away from Naomi, not without an angel blade to shove in her throat, and he’s not about to let her kill some innocent people who were just in the wrong place at the wrong time. Naomi must be able to tell the exact moment she’s won, because she beams at him and holds out her hand.

“Shall we?” she says. Dean takes one last look around at the people, sends a quick mental apology to Castiel, and then reluctantly grabs Naomi’s hand. That’s the last thing he remembers before his legs give out underneath him and his vision goes black.


	13. Chapter 13

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Disclaimer: I don’t own SPN.
> 
> Thanks to CassFear84, eternallyheartbeating, tfw_cas, Darmys, Evalyne, LokiNeedsHugs1031 and Dean_The_princess_Winchester for your comments :)

When Dean claws his way to consciousness, the first thing he becomes aware of is that he can’t move. The second thing he notices is that the muscles in his arms are burning and screaming in pain. It takes his sluggish brain a moment to catch up, and he realises just why he can’t move once it does come back online: his wrists are bound tightly and strung up above his head. He suppresses a groan. How many times has he found himself in this position before?

“Really?” he complains to the dark, empty room. “Bit of originality would be nice!”

There’s no reply. Letting out the groan he’d kept in, he tries to rest as much weight on his feet as possible in an attempt to take some of the strain off his arms, but whoever bound him knows what they’re doing; he’s tied just loosely enough that his feet still touch the ground, but not loose enough to give him any extra slack in his arms. His shoulders won’t be painfully dislocated but he’s not gonna be hanging in luxury either.

He’s not sure how long he hangs there for but he’s just starting to go nuts from dangling in the dark with nothing to do when lights flick on, causing him to squint as the brightness nearly blinds him.

“Son of a bitch!” he snaps.

“I’d appreciate it if you didn’t talk about my Father in that manner, Dean,” an annoyingly familiar voice says. When Dean’s watering eyes have adjusted to the light, he sees that Naomi is standing in front of him with a sweet smile on her face. If he didn’t know any better, he’d almost suspect that she’s there to rescue him; but he does know better, and it’s a little alarming how good she is at acting innocent.

“Right. My bad. How d’you feel about ‘Jesus Christ’?”

Naomi’s smile widens.

“Joke all you like, Dean, if that brings you comfort. But the way I see it, no amount of joking is going to help you. You’re not getting free and even if you did, you wouldn’t be leaving here.”

Dean raises an eyebrow. He’s been in this situation a billion times before, so he’s not exactly cowering in fear.

“So, what’s the go now?” he says. “Torture? ‘Cause I ain’t exactly shaking in my boots.”

“Of course not!” Naomi’s smile widens. “Not now, at least. No, you’re going to call Castiel for me and get him to bring the angel tablet. Or I’ll kill you.”

Dean can’t help but roll his eyes.

“Like I said. How original.”

Naomi chooses not to grace that with a response. Instead, she slides her hand into his pocket – Dean makes sure to smirk, revelling in the faint hint of disgust that appears on her face – and pulls out his phone, which she unlocks and taps through.

“I know the drill,” Dean quips as Naomi finds Castiel’s contact details. “Don’t give anything away, act as normal as possible, blah blah blah.”

He’s mildly surprised when Naomi laughs at this.

“Oh, of course not, Dean. The moment you ask him to bring the angel tablet, Castiel will know that I have you. So feel free to be as open as you like. I don’t care what you say, so long as you tell him to bring the tablet to the abandoned warehouse on 145 Road. Oh, and please tell him not to bring Sam Winchester, or alert him to this location in any way. I’ll feel Sam’s presence the minute he appears near here.”

“Why, scared of the Dynamic Duo?”

“I’m not scared of two pathetic humans. However, you both have an annoyingly extraordinary habit of succeeding whenever you’re together.”

Dean grins smugly.

“So what’s stopping me from just telling Cas not to come? I ain’t gonna tell him to come running into a trap.”

“Oh, you will relay your location to Castiel. If you don’t, Sam will be joining you.”

A sliver of worried rage forms in his stomach, but Dean keeps grinning.

“Really? If you couldn’t find Cas till he left, what makes you think you can get to Sammy?”

Naomi favours him with a condescending smile.

“Because Sam won’t stay in your little hideout forever. He’s rather like you, isn’t he? Eventually, he _will_ crack, just as Castiel did; whether it’s to buy food, or go on a hunt, or even to come and find you. Either way, he won’t stay there for the rest of his life. And once he leaves, I _will_ grab him. And while I won’t kill him, because that would only hinder the process of closing the gates of Hell, there’s nothing stopping me from torturing him. I just have to keep him alive.”

Defeated, the grin slides off Dean’s face. He knows he’s lost this one; no matter how much he loves Castiel, Sam comes first, and he’s not ever going to sacrifice his brother for anybody. He knows that Naomi can tell as well, judging by the smug smile as she presses ‘call’ and then holds the phone to his ear. He’s almost disappointed that he’s not being held at weapon point but he supposes it isn’t necessary; Castiel’s going to come no matter what he says.

The angel picks up on the second ring.

“Dean? Are you okay? You’ve been gone for two hours.”

Dean’s stomach flutters at the familiar gravelly voice and he almost can’t go through with this, no matter what happens to Sam. But then his ‘protect Sam’ instincts kick back in and, slumping, he knows he has to do this.

“Uh…she got me, Cas,” he says roughly, the words bitter in his mouth. “Naomi. We’re in a warehouse on 145 Road. She says to bring the tablet or…yeah, you get the picture. And don’t bring Sammy or tell him where we are. I don’t want her getting her claws into him too.”

There’s silence on the other end of the line. Dean gulps, ignoring the pit of nausea beginning to settle inside him.

“Cas? You there?”

“I’m coming, Dean.”

Before Dean can get in at least a token ‘don’t do this, Cas’, the line goes dead. Naomi tosses his phone over her shoulder with a smile, ignoring Dean’s wince at how it smashes to pieces. He’s not particularly attached to that phone over any others he’s had, but he hates having to replace them. They’re so damn expensive these days.

“Good boy,” Naomi says patronisingly. Dean grits his teeth and shoots her a poisonous look, then looks away and resolutely ignores her, praying that Castiel doesn’t show up.

* * *

 

It doesn’t take long for Dean’s prayer to be ignored. He knows the minute that Castiel appears, because Naomi’s head whips around to look at the entrance to the warehouse. There’s silence for a moment, in which Dean wonders what the hell’s going on and if Castiel’s trying to pull a fast one, but then the doors slam open, as if by a strong gale. In a scene eerily reminiscent to the first time Dean met him, Castiel strides inside, trench coat billowing around him – only this time, he’s got the angel tablet in his arms and on his face is probably the most terrifying expression Dean’s ever seen. His eyes zero in on Dean immediately and the angel starts for him, only to be stopped in his tracks by an angel blade appearing at Dean’s throat as if by magic.

“Castiel,” Naomi greets amiably. Dean tries to avoid looking at Castiel but his eyes are drawn to the enraged angel as if by magic. “I’m sorry it had to come to this, brother.”

“No, you’re not.” Castiel’s voice shakes with fury. “You think nothing of using Dean to get to me. Enough with the false civilities, Naomi.”

“You misunderstand me. I’m only sorry that you’ve grown to care so much for one human that you’ve turned your back on your family. And I’m sorry that I have to keep doing this to you. I’d love nothing more than for you to be the proud, respectable warrior you once were.”

Castiel snorts.

“How many times did you tell me that as you brainwashed me for failing to obey? How much of my identity have you stripped away from me? And yet, despite his forthcomings, Dean has never tried to mould me into something I’m not. No matter how many times he’s reprimanded me for my choices and told me that I was wrong, he never once _forced_ or _brainwashed_ me to obey him! Is it any wonder that I chose him over you?”

If Dean didn’t think that Castiel would be paying for that later, he’d be laughing hard at the murderous look on Naomi’s face.

“Enough niceties,” she snaps. “Give me the angel tablet. Now. Or Dean dies. And I won’t make his death quick.”

Castiel’s jaw sets. For a moment, Dean thinks he’s not going to listen to her; but then the angel stiffly approaches Naomi and holds out the tablet for her. Beaming, Naomi takes it.

“Thank you, Castiel.”

“Let Dean go. I’ve upheld my end of the bargain.”

Naomi tuts and taps the blade against Dean’s throat. Dean narrowly avoids swallowing nervously.

“Not so fast. Step into the holy oil first.”

Dean’s stomach drops when he sees a circle of holy oil on the ground, which he’s not sure if Naomi made before his capture or after. He shakes his head wildly at Castiel, ignoring how the angel blade slices his neck and creates shallow, stinging cuts that trickle blood down to his collar.

“If I do this,” Castiel says slowly. “If I give myself up for Dean…will you let him go?”

Naomi gives him a winning smile.

“Of course, Castiel.”

“Don’t do it, Cas!” Dean shouts. He’s quickly silenced by Naomi digging her blade in harder, nearly choking him. Castiel gives Dean a look of utter despair.

“I’m sorry, Dean. But I love you too much to watch you get hurt on my account.”

It’s almost ironic, Dean muses darkly, how he was so worried about assholes using Castiel against him…and yet _he_ turns out to be the one being used against _Castiel_. Though he’s long gotten used to the universe’s sick sense of humour. Maybe Fate’s at it again.

Squaring his shoulders, Castiel steps into the circle of holy oil. Naomi snaps her fingers and it ignites, bringing roaring flames into life around Castiel. Dean’s hit with a sudden flashback of hellfire and how it illuminated everyone in the Pit with a hellish glow, and he has to squeeze his eyes shut and mumble nonsense to himself to force it away. It’s been years since he thought about Hell but he still has the odd, unpleasant flashback or nightmare.

“First, I’m going to cleanse you of this abominable ‘love’,” Naomi says tightly. “You need guidance, Castiel. You need this negative influence removed from you. Once Dean is dead, I’ll let him go.”

Castiel moves as if to zap over, but contains himself just in time. Dean nearly winces at how close Castiel had been to catching on fire, with how close he got to the flames.

“You promised!” he shouts wildly. “You promised me, Naomi!”

“I did,” Naomi says coolly. “But you never specified that you wanted Dean alive when I free him.”

* * *

 

Pain.

Blood.

Someone’s yelling.

More pain.

More blood.

“Stop this, Naomi!”

He can’t feel his legs.

“I’m begging you! Let him go!”

Is he even alive?

“Stop hurting him!”

Or is he still in Hell? Has he never left, and all of this has just been a dream?

“Please, torture me instead!”

No, it has to be real. There’s no way he could have dreamed up someone as amazing as Castiel and convinced himself that the angel loved him back.

“This is for your own good, Castiel!”

He’s not sure of just how long Naomi’s been taking him apart. The only constant thing has been his burning arms, and even that’s starting to feel unreal.

But suddenly, he realises that Naomi’s not inflicting any more pain on him; that the pain he’s feeling isn’t new. Using what little strength he has to raise his head, he sees with swimming vision that Castiel has managed to free himself from the holy fire – by using his trench coat, if him clad in only his suit is any indication, man, what a smart guy he is – and is taking on Naomi, despite having no weapon. Dean absently wonders if Naomi had confiscated his blade, or if he hadn’t even bothered to bring one.

Huh. Castiel really loves Dean, then, if he’s coming to give himself up without even the illusion of fighting back. What an odd thought, that somebody other than Sam loves Dean so much.

But then Dean can’t breathe. With a shriek of rage, Naomi has turned and buried her blade in his gut, and he can’t breathe around the agony and the blood that’s starting to rise in his throat. He can’t even keep his head up, so he can’t see how Castiel reacts, but judging by the heated sounds of yelling and swishing fabric and clanging on stone that fills his fuzzy ears, Castiel is Not Impressed.

Mustering up the very last of his strength, Dean forces his head to rise again. Wow. Castiel is more than Not Impressed. He’s reacting as if he was Dean and Naomi had just killed Sam. How weird, to be loved that much.

Dean laughs through the blood in his mouth, which dribbles out over his lip and down his chin. He has to get Naomi’s attention. He’s not sure why but he knows that it’s important.

“Hey…” he rasps. “Hey…assbutt.”

He doesn’t know why he said that but it does the trick: Naomi looks over her shoulder at him, and Castiel takes advantage of that split second of distraction to dive at her, grab her around the neck, pull her body flush to his, and clamp a hand around her wrist. Before Naomi can even struggle, Castiel’s driving her blade straight through her chest, in a move that leaves Dean vaguely surprised that Castiel doesn’t impale himself as well.

Bright blue light fills his vision. Then the last of his strength leaves him, and he gives in to the blackness that’s creeping into his vision from the edges.


	14. Chapter 14

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Disclaimer: I don’t own SPN.
> 
> So this was gonna be the last chapter but…I decided to split it. Whoops? Have some porny goodness at the end XD
> 
> Thanks to Dean_The_princess_Winchester, Darmys, CassFear84, tfw_cas, Hazel, LokiNeedsHugs1031 and Evalyne for your comments :)

 

Dean’s got the weirdest sense of déjà vu as he cracks his eyes open to find himself in darkness, and for a moment he wonders why he’s lying down on something so comfortable and where Naomi is. Is this just another way for her to torture him? Giving him a respite before continuing? It’s a common tactic down in Hell: let the soul just sit there for a year or two, no torture at all, then start in on them again. The brief period with no pain meant that the soul couldn’t become desensitised to the pain, so they broke quicker. And boy, had it been a favourite tactic of Alastair’s to use against Dean, because no physical pain just meant that they had to get creative.

But…no, this isn’t right. Why is there a warm body next to him? And, as he’s sluggishly realised, why is he in bed? What, did Naomi decide to get all creepy and snuggle in bed with him to try and gross him out? Still groggy, Dean fumbles around in the dark until his hand meets warm flesh – someone’s hand. And it’s definitely not Naomi’s. It feels more like a male hand than a female one; it’s thick and rough and feels oh so familiar.

“Dean?” a low voice whispers. Dean immediately recognises it as Castiel’s. So he’s in bed with Castiel. Yeah, that’s infinitely better than Naomi. But why? What happened to the angel bitch?

“Naomi…” he groans, trying to shift onto his side. He’s immediately pushed back down and the next moment, a light snaps on, filling the room with brightness. Despite the fact that it’s only a lamp and it’s not as bright as the ceiling light, it still overwhelms Dean’s eyes and he hisses and raises a hand to shield his eyes.

“Naomi?” Cas says. Dean wants to sink into that voice and never leave. “She’s dead. I killed her.”

He had? Wait…that’s right, he had. When Dean had been hanging there, bleeding to death after she stabbed him. His breath catching in his throat, Dean starts to pat his stomach, feeling for evidence – an open wound, maybe, or even just sticky blood. But not only is there no sign of the wound at all, his shirt isn’t even torn. He frowns. That’s weird.

“I healed you, Dean. You – you were so close to death when I finally killed Naomi. You’ve been unconscious for a day now. My grace healed your wounds but it failed to replenish your energy.”

Cas’ voice is thick. Used to the light’s presence, Dean lets the hand over his eyes fall and squints. He first sees a pair of bright blue eyes hovering above him, and he smiles. These eyes are good. He likes those eyes. And now that he can make out the owner of the eyes, his insides begin to soar. He likes those eyes, but he loves who they belong to.

He tenses, expecting a massive panic over thinking that word so casually, but there’s nothing except a warm, fuzzy feeling. He grins stupidly.

“Cas,” he croaks. It’s just one word, but Castiel must have been able to pick up on all the emotions behind it because he bends down and brushes his lips against Dean’s. It’s a soft kiss, and very tame and chaste, but it feels like coming home and Dean practically melts into it. Despite his arms feeling slightly like lead – probably from being out for a day – he forces himself to lift them and he drapes them around Castiel’s neck.

“I was worried,” Castiel murmurs against his lips. “I thought that my grace would fail. It still hasn’t recovered from Naomi’s brutalisation when I was captured. But it healed you, and I don’t think I have ever been more relieved.”

He kisses Dean again. Dean, meanwhile, marvels at all of this. Kissing has always been a means to an end with him. He’s never kissed anybody without the expectation of it leading to sex, with the exceptions being Cassie, Lisa, and Jo – and Charlie, even if that had been a brotherly kiss on the head. But there’s something amazing about just being able to lie here and share kisses with his angel, with no pressure to take it further or expectations that it’ll lead to more. It’s more intimate than all of his sexual escapades combined; maybe because, to him, sex is simply stress relief. But this is so much more. He doesn’t think that Lisa fully understood why he was so blasé about sex and why kissing for the sake of kissing was such a luxury to him – at least, not until she learned about his hunter life – but he knows that Cassie had picked up on it almost immediately. It might have been the inquisitive reporter in her, but she’d been able to pin Dean’s low self-worth and starving need for affection almost straight off the bat. Maybe that’s why she’s always held a special place in his heart that not even Lisa could come close to – and why he chose to impose on Lisa rather than Cassie after Sam went to Hell.

“You’re thinking about something,” Castiel says when they break apart for air. “I can tell. Your thoughts are elsewhere.”

Dean worries for a moment that Castiel isn’t happy that he’s distracted, but then he shoves that thought aside. Castiel’s giving him that soft little ‘I rarely smile but you’re an exception’ smile and he knows now that he could never turn Castiel off him. The thought that an angel has such unshakeable faith in him is staggering, but Dean’s had years to process it – from the moment that Castiel had looked him in the eyes and then rebelled against Zachariah and Heaven for him – and, while he still doesn’t see why he deserves it, he’s coming to accept it.

“Just wonderin’ what I did to deserve you,” Dean finally answers. “I dunno what I did to make a freaking _angel_ like me this much but I ain’t ever letting you go.”

Something lights up in Castiel’s eyes and, with a wider smile, he leans down to kiss Dean again. This kiss is brief but it doesn’t leave Dean any less awestruck.

“I would list all of the reasons, but I know that you would resist. If you hadn’t just woken up after being stabbed and then rendered unconsciousness for a day, I would proceed to list them anyway.”

He pulls away and sits up. Dean whines before he can stop himself. Castiel’s presence is warmth and light and Dean’s probably just being overly clingy, but he thinks he’s justified; after all, he nearly died. Again. It’s remarkable how many times he’s died that he just doesn’t even care anymore.

“I think a shower and some lunch is in order. Sam prepared a chicken salad for his lunch, so I can get you some of that if you like.”

Dean struggles into a sitting position, wrinkling his nose.

“Or,” he says, running a hand up Castiel’s side and putting on his best ‘puppy dog eyes’, “you could get me a burger. Or some pie. I nearly died, so I think I deserve some pie. Don’t you think?”

His puppy dog eyes aren’t as effective as Sam’s, but he’s banking on the fact that Castiel finds him way more adorable than that overgrown moose. He’s proven right when Castiel sighs, a small smile on his face.

“Go shower, and I’ll get you your pie.”

Dean grins and pecks Castiel on the lips.

“Thanks, sunshine. You’re the best.”

* * *

 

He doesn’t _mean_ for his shower to take so long but as he lets the hot spray wash over him and soothe the aches and creaks that he lives with, he can’t help but wish that Castiel was here with him – washing his hair for him, those strong fingers digging into his scalp…maybe soaping Dean up, running those rough hands all over his body…

Dean grimaces when a familiar hot, tingling ache pools between his legs. He supposes he can’t be surprised that he’s popped a woody – after all, he _had_ been thinking about a very naked Castiel touching him everywhere – but he’s slightly resentful that he just nearly _died_ and was out for a day and yet his dick doesn’t seem to have gotten the memo that it should be recovering along with the rest of him.

Sighing, he reaches down and wraps his hand around it, hissing at the spike of heat that shoots through him. He gives himself a few strokes and he’s about to really start pumping when he has an idea. He jumps out of the shower, disregarding how he’s dripping wet all over, and crosses over to the drawers and rummages inside. He strikes gold in the second one, where he finds a small tub of Vaseline, and he slicks up two of his fingers before jumping back into the shower with the tub. He’s not sure what Sam needs Vaseline for, nor does he really care; all he knows is that Sam is gonna want to buy a whole new tub if he learns what Dean’s using it for.

Dean reaches around, brushing his fingers lightly over the cleft of his ass, before finding his hole and pausing. He’s never done this before – always terrified of losing his tough, masculine status from sticking things inside him like a _girl_ – but thinking about Castiel touching him has gotten him riled up and now he can’t stop wondering how it would feel to have Castiel touching him everywhere…including inside him. He takes a deep breath, steels himself, and pushes a finger inside.

It’s…odd. It doesn’t hurt but it feels slightly unnatural to stick something up there. Dean almost removes his finger and washes away all evidence of his little foray into the world of gay sex, but he stops himself. He’s never actually sought out gay porn but it’s sometimes popped up and, well, porn is porn if you’re getting off (apart from the _really_ weird shit). He knows that a lot of it is exaggerated acting but the guys getting dicks shoved up their asses look like they’ve found Heaven on Earth (okay, maybe not the best comparison, since Dean’s actually seen Heaven), and they can’t have been faking _all_ of it, right?

So he persists. He grimaces for the second time when he inserts another finger but then, to his surprise, it actually starts to feel…good. It doesn’t feel amazing, but he’s growing accustomed to the feeling of having something up his ass, and he thinks that if his mind was clouded by lust and pleasure and this was Castiel in here instead of him, it might feel amazing. Then he curls his fingers and –

_‘Holy shit!’_

His knees nearly buckle underneath him as pleasure jolts through him and he has to reach out with his free hand and steady himself against the wall, panting. He suspects that he’s just found his prostate. He’s heard stories of it – about how it’s the guy G-spot, how touching it can make you see stars, how orgasms can feel way better by stimulating it – but he’s never really seen the point in trying to find it when he already has amazing sex.

Now, however, he thinks he needs to step up his game.

He deliberately avoids touching his prostate again as he scissors his two fingers to open himself up, not wanting to end this just yet. He’s not sure how open he needs to be for Castiel to fit inside him – that is, if Castiel even wants to do this, but at least he’s now found a new way of getting himself off – but after the initial shock of finding his prostate, he finds that this whole fingering himself thing is starting to feel really, _really_ good. Not as good as jacking himself off, but not as weird and squicky as he’d first imagined.

It isn’t long before he manages to fit three and then four fingers inside himself, and now he’s openly panting and leaning his forehead against the tiles as he fucks his fingers in and out of himself. His legs are starting to shake and he’s warm and buzzing all over. Castiel has to be back with the pie by now, so maybe it’s time to just end this – he must be loose enough by now and if he isn’t, he’s sure Castiel will have a field day stretching him even more. With that thought, he finally allows himself to touch his prostate again, thrusting his fingers in and out and making sure that he hits it every time. And oh, what a difference this tiny bundle of nerves makes! He’s actually whining and groaning now, close to collapsing if his legs decide to give out on him, and he’s surprised at how needily he’s rolling his hips back onto his fingers to chase the orgasm he can feel simmering in his gut.

“Cas,” he hisses as his stomach begins to ignite, imagining that it’s Castiel finger-fucking him instead, looking down at him with those bright blue eyes that he imagines will be lidded with pleasure. “Fuck, _Cas_!”

With that, he comes, painting the tiles with white streaks that are quickly washed away by the water. And…damn, that’s a totally different feeling to coming by dick. Before, orgasms had felt like electricity shooting through his dick, but this? This is way different. It’s deep _inside_ him, this feeling, and it feels like a hot lightning storm in his very core. Is this the difference between clitoral versus G-spot orgasms that women keep going on about? Dean remembers one woman who had instructed him very thoroughly in the different orgasms that women could have, and if his dick is his version of a clitoris and his prostate is a male G-spot then damn, she’d been spot on about orgasms feeling different from different parts of his anatomy.

Shaking himself out of his thoughts, he removes his shaky fingers from his now-loose hole and just stands there, leaning against the wall to stay upright and groggily marvelling at how he had just come without even touching his dick. The last time that happened was when he blew his load in his pants as a thirteen year old when finding porn for the first time.

“Jesus Christ,” he slurs. He suddenly shivers violently, realising a moment later that this is because the water raining down on him has started to cool, and as he gets out of the shower and dries himself with trembling arms, he can’t help but think how much better it’ll feel if Castiel does want to fuck him.


	15. Chapter 15

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Disclaimer: I don’t own SPN.
> 
> Last chapter…wow. Fun fact: I wrote chapter one all the way back in September 2015, as a fun oneshot idea about what might have happened if Dean had said ‘love’ instead of ‘need’. But then I thought that I could expand on that, so I spent a month plotting, put it down for a year, then came back and wrote it. And you guys have been amazing throughout my first full-length fic that I’ve completed that hasn’t been drabbles and hasn’t been based wholly around canon (like ‘As Time Goes By’ was).
> 
> So…thanks for being so special, you guys. I’m nowhere near those amazing top authors who get tens of thousands of hits and kudos, but I’ve got a pretty special group right here and that makes me very happy :)
> 
> (Also, spoilers for 12x10 if you haven’t seen it yet, though I added my own info to flesh it out).
> 
> Thanks to Dean_The_princess_Winchester, LokiNeedsHugs1031, Darmys, CassFear84 and tfw_cas for your comments :) And a massive thanks to everybody who has commented, left kudos and subscribed – you guys are amazing :D

 

When Dean leaves the bathroom, still flushed from his recent activities in the shower, he’s ecstatic to find Castiel waiting for him in the main room with a big, steaming apple pie on the table. Dean grins widely at him.

“Dude, pie! Knew I could count on you!”

Sam, who’s sitting at the table with a book, rolls his eyes.

“I refuse to be guilted just because I forget your damn pie all the time.”

Dean stabs a finger at him.

“No, you’ve lost all privileges. Cas here’s my favourite now.”

“I’m your _brother_!” Sam says indignantly.

“Cas brings me pie. You don’t. Plus, you didn’t jump up and fall at my feet just now and thank me for surviving Naomi’s incredibly traumatic attack.”

Sam rolls his eyes again; this time, so hard that Dean thinks it a miracle they don’t lodge in his brain.

“Whatever. I’ll leave you two to suck up and play tonsil hockey.”

Castiel stares, brow furrowed, as Sam leaves the room.

“Is Sam mad at me because I bought you pie and he doesn’t? I didn’t mean to upset him.”

Dean snorts and crosses over to Castiel, then caresses his cheek.

“Don’t worry, sweetheart,” he says. “Sam isn’t annoyed. He’s just pretending to be.”

“Ah. And why do you keep calling me nicknames?”

Dean’s smile falls nervously.

“Uh, just pet names. I can stop if you don’t like ‘em.”

Castiel’s face clears.

“No, I do like them. I just wondered why you call me ‘angel’ and ‘sunshine’ and ‘sweetheart’.”

“Don’t tell anyone I do. My manliness is at stake.”

It’s Castiel’s turn to roll his eyes.

“Your secret is safe with me,” the angel teases. Dean blinks and stares at him.

“Was that…actual sarcasm?” he says in mock surprise. “Did my baby angel actually use _sarcasm_?”

“I’ll take your pie away,” Castiel threatens. Dean immediately sharpens up.

“No. I’m sorry. Don’t take my pie.”

He sits down to eat, Castiel sitting next to him. A small grin graces Castiel’s mouth.

“You smell of endorphins. Did you achieve orgasm in the shower?”

Dean chokes on his mouthful of warm apple pie, so Castiel sighs and slaps him on the back to help dislodge it.

“Yeah,” Dean wheezes. Despite his streaming eyes and general lack of dignity, he still winks at the angel. “Just a little somethin’ to help ya later. Y’know, only if you wanna. I ain’t gonna pressure you into anything.”

Castiel’s eyes widen a fraction and then a calm smile settles on his face.

“I can’t wait to see what sexual acts you have in mind,” he says.

Dean can’t finish his pie quickly enough.

* * *

 

The two of them retreat to Dean’s room after he finishes his pie. There’s an awkward moment where they pass Sam, and Dean has to slow down and school his features so as to not look like he’s overly eager to get back to his room and do the horizontal tango with Castiel. He’s not sure how well he pulled this off; judging by the knowing smirk on Sam’s face, he’s pretty sure he failed miserably.

“You two just…have fun.” Sam pauses awkwardly, the smirk fading. “And…I’m gonna need ear plugs, aren’t I?”

Dean grins wolfishly, eager to get one up over his baby brother.

“Might wanna stay down here as well. I’m betting ten bucks that Cas is a screamer.”

“Gross!” Sam exclaims, wrinkling his nose. “I just – I’m glad you’re back and – y’know – not dead and all. So, uh…goodnight! I’ll just – stay down here and try not to think about – um, yeah…”

Cackling, Dean grabs Castiel by the hand and tugs him towards the hallway leading to the bedrooms. He doesn’t release Castiel until they’re in his room and the door’s shut.

“Why do you insist on teasing Sam about your intention to have sex with me?” Castiel frowns. Dean’s stomach jolts at how casual Castiel is about what’s hopefully going to happen. “You told me before that the topic of sex is taboo due to discretion. Teasing Sam hardly feels discreet.”

Dean grins and reaches out to grab the lapels of Castiel’s trench coat and reel him in. Castiel goes willingly, his eyes darting to Dean’s lips when the man licks them.

“Because…” Dean slowly shucks off Castiel’s trench coat and suit jacket, then works to undo his blue tie. “It’s fun. He’s my little brother. I’m supposed to make his life a misery.”

Castiel’s still frowning, though Dean can tell that undressing him is affecting him, if his soft panting is any indication.

“So it would be inappropriate for me to tease him?” the angel says as Dean unbuttons his white shirt. “As he’s not my brother? But you’re allowed to make him uncomfortable because you’re his brother?”

“Bingo,” Dean drawls, pushing Castiel’s shirt off his shoulders. Now the angel is naked from the waist up and Dean shifts as blood begins to surge south and his heart rate starts to increase because _damn_ , Castiel is freaking _hot_. And he’s all Dean’s. Dean gets to have this – this fiercely loyal, protective, kind, _good_ angel wrapped up in sexy packaging – and he still doesn’t quite believe that he deserves this, but he’s just selfish enough that he’s going to keep Castiel anyway.

“But why do humans make their family miserable? I’m not sure I understand this human custom, even though I’ve been privy to your family dynamic with Sam for years.”

Dean shrugs.

“‘S how humans show affection. I don’t get it either, but you get this rush when your family makes fun of you. Sam pisses me off when he gets all ‘smug asshole’ but I still love it.”

His eyes are still roaming over Castiel, drinking in the sight of his shirtless, messy-haired angel. His dick is hard and aching now, but he doesn’t want to whip it out just yet.

“Are you okay, Dean?” Castiel asks, puzzled. “You’re just standing there and staring at me.”

Dean holds up a finger.

“I’m admiring a work of art,” he says. “Hot _damn_. I’m two seconds away from drawing you like one of my French girls.”

He expects Castiel to put on that adorable ‘I don’t understand that reference’ face, but the angel just crosses his arms over his chest and curls in on himself. Worry starts to gnaw at Dean’s stomach.

“Okay, what’d I do?”

“Nothing.”

“Don’t give me that crap, Cas. I clearly said something you don’t like, so spill.”

Castiel sighs and looks away.

“This…isn’t my body,” he mumbles. “This is Jimmy’s body. You don’t know what I truly look like and I can’t show you my true form without burning your eyes out of your sockets. So I should not have an issue with you finding my vessel attractive…but I do.”

Dean blinks. Then he blinks again, because this issue honestly hadn’t even occurred to him.

“You do know I’m not in it for a hot body, right?” he says. “I mean, sure, that’s a pretty sweet bonus. But I was havin’ issues with liking you for ages because you were in a guy’s body. Hell, I’m glad you’re not a chick, or I’d probably have hit on you two seconds after you pulled that knife outta your chest in that warehouse.”

Castiel shrugs, still not looking at Dean. Dean gently takes his chin and lifts it, so that the angel has to look at him.

“It’s _you_ I want,” Dean says firmly. “Not Jimmy. Sure, his body’s hot, but I don’t think of it as his. I’ve known you for years, Cas. So when I say you’re hot, I mean all of you. Yeah, Jimmy’s attractive, but he…he carried himself differently. I dunno how to describe it. He didn’t have that voice of yours, or that way you walk, or even that look behind his eyes. I look into those eyes and it’s _you_.”

He steps closer to Castiel and drags his fingers from Castiel’s chin up his face, finally splaying them across his cheek. Castiel leans into the touch, eyelids fluttering.

“Trust me, I know it’s you every time I say you’re hot or I touch you,” Dean continues. “If Jimmy came back and took his body back, I wouldn’t wanna touch him. Sure, I’d probably think he’s hot – and maybe even pop a boner because I’m so used to thinking of this body as _you_ and this body _is_ good-looking – but I wouldn’t want him like I want you. And if you found a way to show me your true form, I’d take it in a heartbeat.”

Hoping that he’s gauged everything right, he leans in and brushes his lips against Castiel’s. He gets no response for a moment but then Castiel slowly begins to kiss back.

“I love _you_.” Dean revels in the pride that surges through him at being able to say that word again at long last. It seems like he can only say that word when it’s really important…or when he’s just being a major freaking chick. “Not Jimmy. And if your vessel was butt ugly, I’d still love you. Sure, I’m shallow, but…you’re different, Cas. You’ve always been different when it comes to these things.”

Castiel is silent. Dean pulls back, worried that he’s just screwed everything up, but then Castiel gives him a small smile and the pit inside Dean’s stomach begins to fade.

“Thank you, Dean. That means a lot.”

They stand in silence. Dean isn’t sure if the mood’s ruined or not, and he doesn’t want to look like some sleaze who’s only after ass by trying to seduce Castiel further.

“So…what other vessels did you have?” he asks. Castiel gives him a confused look. “I wanna know more about you, Cas. You said angels haven’t been down here for two thousand years. Did you have other vessels before the no-fly zone?”

Castiel shrugs sheepishly.

“That’s…not entirely true,” he admits. “A hundred years ago, I was under the command of an angel called Ishim. We had a mission that we needed to carry out. We technically were not supposed to be on Earth but I was a soldier and orders were orders.”

“What was the mission?” Dean says curiously. Pain flickers across Castiel’s face for a moment.

“I’d…rather not say.”

That means it must have been pretty gruesome. Dean wants to push for more information but he also doesn’t want to make Castiel feel like shit. The angel’s only just discovered free will and he probably doesn’t want to dwell on all the crap he had to do under orders in Heaven.

“My vessel then was a woman called Margaret Whitlock. In fact, she happened to be Jimmy Novak’s great-grandmother – her daughter, Elizabeth Whitlock, married Danilo Novak, a Serbian immigrant, despite her family’s disapproval. Margaret looked remarkably similar to Jimmy, as a matter of fact. You would have found her extremely attractive.”

Dean tries to picture a pretty woman with dark hair and blue eyes and Castiel’s serious, awkward demeanour, but it doesn’t feel right. He’s so used to seeing Castiel as he is now that he can’t imagine him any other way – nor does he really want to.

“I might’ve found her attractive but she’s still not you,” Dean says. “I told you, I don’t care about your vessel. What makes your body hot is how it’s yours and how you carry yourself.”

This time, Castiel’s smile is wider. He reaches out to cup Dean’s face with both hands, then draws him in for a sweet kiss.

“I don’t want to think about anything else right now,” the angel says. “All I want is you, Dean.” He looks down. “I – Dean, I nearly lost you. I got your phone call and you said that Naomi had you and – I was so _furious_ , Dean. I was ready to do anything to save you, including giving myself up.”

His stomach flipping, Dean huffs out a laugh.

“Well, that’s probably the dumbest thing you’ve ever done. I’m not worth _that_ much, Cas.”

The next moment, Dean’s smothered by Castiel crushing their lips together, still holding his face tenderly and pressing himself against every inch of Dean’s front, as though he wants to climb inside the man. Dean makes a sound of surprise that quickly gives way to an approving groan as he slides his hands around Castiel to rest at the small of the angel’s back. They only break apart when Dean’s certain he’s going to pass out.

“Don’t ever talk about yourself like that,” Castiel growls. His eyes are wild, with dilated pupils, and Dean’s sure that if he stares at them for too long, he’ll lose himself in them. “You are _everything_ to me, Dean. Now shut up and make love to me.”

As Castiel deftly slides Dean’s shirt from his shoulders, Dean whines in protest of that name.

“Don’t call it that,” he complains, lifting his arms to let Castiel practically rip off his T-shirt. “Nobody calls it ‘making love’ these days. That’s cheesy as hell.”

“Maybe they should,” Castiel mumbles, running his hands up Dean’s torso. Dean shivers violently at the feeling of those long fingers trailing along his skin. “Maybe more people would come to appreciate the intimacy of the act if it was called ‘making love’, rather than focusing on sleeping with random people.”

Dean snorts.

“Dude, the sex isn’t what makes it intimate. If someone wants casual sex, I say let ‘em go. You want intimacy, you gotta work for it outside sex – y’know, doing cheesy couple stuff. That’s what makes sex intimate.”

Castiel hums in agreement. He brushes his thumbs over Dean’s nipples, igniting sparks beneath Dean’s skin, and Dean groans and tips his head back. Castiel quickly takes advantage of this to latch on to the bolt of Dean’s jaw with his lips and suck. Dean curls the fingers of one hand in the angel’s hair when Castiel nips hard and uses his tongue to soothe the skin before trailing kisses down Dean’s throat.

“You sure you’re a pure, saintly virgin?” Dean groans.

“I’ve watched more of your educational videos. I’ve learned a lot about pleasuring your partner from them.”

Castiel grazes his teeth over Dean’s collar, then bites. Dean gasps at this, the pain working to enhance the pleasure that courses through him, and he yanks on Castiel’s hair, causing the angel to growl.

“Cas – shit, that feels so good – Cas, porn isn’t – it’s not meant to _teach_ you,” Dean says shakily as Castiel presses kisses all over Dean’s chest. “That shit’s not realistic. Just a bunch of actors.”

Castiel ignores this in favour of nipping and kissing Dean’s stomach, though Dean’s not really complaining. It’s not long before Castiel has covered every inch of Dean’s torso in kisses and blossoming marks and by this time, Dean’s openly panting and he’s harder than he’s been in a while. Castiel backs off to proudly survey his handiwork, then he grabs Dean by the biceps and pulls him in for a searing kiss. While Dean’s distracted by the angel’s perfect mouth – _damn_ , if he could live in Castiel’s kisses forever then he _so_ would – Castiel walks him backwards, and his brain is so fuzzy that he doesn’t realise just what’s happening until he topples down onto the mattress and Castiel straddles his hips.

“I’d like to be inside you, if you don’t mind,” Castiel murmurs against his lips. Dean gives him a shaky grin.

“That was kinda the plan, sweetheart.”

Castiel’s eyes light up. Dean vows in that moment to do everything in his power to see that look in those brilliant blue eyes again.

“From what I’ve seen in these videos, I have to…open you up?”

The uncertainty in his voice is just so freaking adorable that Dean’s grin widens, his head addled with lust.

“What d’you think I was doing in the shower, sunshine? I was hopin’ you’d wanna do this.”

Castiel’s eyes seem to become even more blown. He reaches down and begins to fumble with the button of Dean’s jeans, snarling in frustration when his shaky fingers can’t undo it. Snickering, Dean pulls his hands away and then curls a hand around the nape of his neck and draws him in for a kiss.

“Just relax,” Dean says. “‘S not a race or anything.”

“But I want you naked now!” Castiel snaps. Dean grins.

“Budge up, angel.”

“You’re really not allowed to call me that,” Castiel grumbles, wriggling off him. “It would be like me calling you ‘human’.”

Dean just smirks and undoes his jeans, then lifts his hips and tugs them and his boxer briefs down. Castiel’s quick to finish the job, after which Dean returns the favour and divests Castiel of his slacks, boxers, shoes and socks. The moment neither of them have a stitch of clothing on, Castiel’s back on top of Dean and kissing him furiously. Dean gladly reciprocates, wrapping a leg around Castiel’s thighs and grinding up. Castiel gasps into his mouth, then pulls away to kiss the side of Dean’s mouth and then start to journey downwards.

“Cas – what –?”

Castiel ignores him, trailing sweet little kisses down Dean’s chest and leaving eruptions of goosebumps in his mouth’s wake. He pauses to study Dean’s nipples almost curiously for a moment, then takes the left one into his mouth, and Dean can’t stop the gasp that escapes him.

“How – how are you so –?”

“I told you, Dean. I researched this topic so that I could bring you as much pleasure as possible.”

He spends what feels like hours just showering attention on Dean’s nipples – licking, suckling, tugging, scraping them between his teeth. It’s driving Dean absolutely mad; he wants Castiel to move on already, to put him out of his lust-induced madness, but he’s never been worshipped like this, like Castiel’s doing to his body…he’s never felt so _loved_.

He tenses, waiting for the inevitable rush of fear and instinct to distance himself from this, from the love he doesn’t deserve…but it doesn’t come. All he feels is Castiel _everywhere_ – on top of him, pressed to him…and, as cheesy as it sounds, in his heart.

He groans at that thought and slaps a hand to his forehead. Castiel pulls back from his swollen nipples, brow furrowed.

“Are you okay, Dean?”

“I’m having a freaking chick flick moment in my _head_ ,” Dean complains. “Damn you, Cas. Now you’re stuck with me and I’m being totally selfish and don’t wanna let you go.”

Castiel’s lips twitch. He leans down and brushes a gentle kiss against Dean’s lips.

“I don’t want you to let me go,” he says. “I’m being selfish as well. I want to keep you all to myself and not share you with anybody.”

He looks away almost shamefully.

“I was so…envious of every woman you slept with,” he admits. “Every woman from the moment I realised my feelings for you. I’ve loved you since choosing to rebel for you but I didn’t realise what these feelings actually meant until I saw you on the ground in Stull Cemetery, bloody and bruised and coming to terms with Sam jumping into the Cage.”

Dean’s rapt, listening to Castiel almost as though he’s under a spell.

“I suppose that’s another reason why I chose to go to Crowley to help with Purgatory. I told myself that I didn’t want to involve you in this life again when you were happy…but really, I was scared. I was scared that I would end up revealing my feelings for you, and you were with Lisa. I would almost certainly have been rejected.”

An almost physical sort of pain aches deep inside Dean. He’s still not sure just why this angel of the Lord fell for _him_ – a nobody with no self-worth and a suicidal compulsion to save people – but he can’t stand to see the look of utter sadness on Castiel’s face and he silently vows to never hurt this angel again if he can help it.

Before Castiel can do anything, Dean hooks a leg around his waist and flips them over before crushing their lips together. Castiel lets out a surprised sound, which Dean eagerly swallows, and once Dean detaches from his lips in order to latch on to the angel’s pulse point, Castiel can’t stop gasping.

“ _Dean_ ,” he chokes, wrapping his arms around Dean’s shoulders and digging his nails into the flesh. Dean makes a small shushing noise as he pulls back to survey the blossoming bruise on Castiel’s throat with pride.

“Just lemme do this,” he says. Castiel nods and then practically melts into the bed as Dean covers his collar and torso in gentle kisses and scarlet hickeys. By the time Dean’s finished teasing Castiel’s nipples into stiff, red-bitten peaks, the angel is openly panting and he looks like he’s been attacked, what with the marks everywhere on his skin. It’s only then that Dean shuffles further down and eyes Castiel’s straining, blood red dick, precome pearling at the tip.

“God help me,” Dean mutters. Before Castiel can ask what’s wrong, Dean bends and envelops the head of Castiel’s cock with his lips, smirking around the flesh in his mouth when Castiel chokes on his own breath. He then sinks down further, taking as much of the length into his mouth as he can until he starts to choke.

“Dean – that’s – _oh_ ,” Castiel wheezes, his whole body trembling. Dean, meanwhile, works on relaxing his throat so that he can take even more of Castiel. He’s surprised at how not-disgusting this is; he’d been expecting to hate this, to only do this to pleasure Castiel, but he actually likes having Castiel in his mouth. The angel tastes salty and bitter – not exactly the best taste in the world, but it’s Castiel and that’s what makes it perfect. He wouldn’t mind doing this again, both to make Castiel happy and because he enjoys it. Fumbling around for Castiel’s hand, he laces their fingers for a moment, staring Castiel right in the eye and hoping that he looks mischievous, before moving Castiel’s hand to his hair. Castiel’s fingers immediately fist in the short locks and Dean pulls off his cock with a wet slurp.

“Feel free to pull,” he says with a cheeky little smile. “And tell me when you’re gettin’ close. Don’t want you to come just yet.”

With that, he returns to his task. As he bobs his head, swirls his tongue around the head, hums lightly around the dick in his mouth, he relishes in the pants and moans that flow from Castiel and how the angel’s tugging on his hair hard enough to really turn him on, but not hard enough that it seriously hurts. Dean doesn’t really have a pain kink but he finds that a little dash of it just enhances the pleasure when he has sex and so he encourages his partner to pull on his hair, to scrape their nails down his skin, to slap him on the ass – and yeah, that’s enough thinking about previous sex when he’s currently so far into Castiel’s pants that his mouth should replace the angel’s boxers.

He's wrenched from his thoughts by Castiel whimpering, “I’m going to –” before yanking on Dean’s hair hard. Dean pulls away, a line of saliva keeping his mouth attached to Castiel’s dick, and he can’t even get a word out before Castiel’s hauling him back up the bed, tangling his fingers back in Dean’s hair, and then forcing him down for a searing kiss. Deliberately avoiding brushing against Castiel’s dick, Dean kisses back, cupping Castiel’s cheek with one hand, and he’s so into the kiss that he’s taken by surprise when Castiel flips them. He’s given a moment to take a shaky breath and get his balance back before Castiel’s attacking his mouth again. Dean tries to make the heated kiss last for as long as possible, until he absolutely needs air.

“I love you.” Castiel sounds utterly wrecked. Dean just groans, his hands roaming all over Castiel’s torso and back as though he’s starving for touch, heat coursing through him. “I love you so much, Dean.”

“Just hurry up and get inside me, you sap. Lube’s in the drawer.”

Despite assuring Castiel that he opened himself up in the shower, the angel refuses to take his word for it and he won’t go further until he sees for himself that he can fit four fingers inside. Only then does he pull back to coat his dick in lube, while Dean watches as his heart hammers furiously in anticipation. After a moment, Castiel gently spreads his legs wide open and crawls on top of him.

“Are you sure, Dean?” Castiel asks. Dean rolls his eyes and tugs Castiel down for a kiss.

“Would I have taken all that time in the shower if I wasn’t?”

Castiel ducks his head with a grin. Dean only has enough time to marvel at how Castiel’s been smiling and laughing a lot more since they’ve been together before Castiel shifts and… _oh, God_. There’s a _cock_ inside him.

“Tell me if I cause you any pain,” Castiel demands breathlessly as he pushes inside at a snail’s pace, inch by inch. Dean, meanwhile, can’t even breathe. Forget using his fingers – he’s so much _fuller_ with Castiel’s cock than with fingers, and once Castiel bottoms out and his hips are flush against Dean’s ass, Dean can barely even remember that he’s supposed to feel emasculated by having another man’s dick up his ass.

“ _Dean_ ,” Castiel groans, resting his forehead against Dean’s. “You – I’m so _close_ to you. I can _feel_ your soul…”

Dean leans up to kiss Castiel, wraps his legs around the angel’s waist, and hooks his arms underneath Castiel’s and grips his shoulder blades.

“ _Move_ ,” Dean gasps. Castiel pulls back slowly and gives an almost cautious thrust, so Dean decides to encourage him by forcing Castiel’s pelvis down with his heels and rolling his own hips up. That seems to be all the encouragement that Castiel needs to start up a steady rhythm that’s not fast enough for Dean’s tastes but definitely better than before.

“So _tight_ ,” Castiel whimpers against Dean’s lips. “I didn’t – you’ve told me about it but I didn’t know that sex could feel this _good_ …”

Dean laughs breathlessly, nearly overwhelmed with the pleasure that sparks inside him with every thrust of Castiel’s hips.

“Feels way better if you _move_ ,” he says.

Castiel raises an eyebrow, as though Dean has just issued a challenge, and then he pulls back and snaps his hips forward roughly. This new pace is far faster and harder, much to Dean’s delight, and he lets out breathy moans and grunts every time Castiel’s hips slap against his ass. God, he doesn’t know why he was so worried about having a dick up his ass before…it feels so damn _good_ and he’s going to have Castiel in his ass as much as he can, masculinity be damned.

Then Castiel shifts ever so slightly and – _Jesus fuck, that’s his prostate_! Dean gives a long, strangled moan and moves one hand to the back of Castiel’s head to pull him in for a messy kiss, the fingers of his other hand digging into Castiel’s shoulder blade as hard as possible and his hips rolling up to meet every thrust of Castiel’s. Now that Castiel’s found his prostate and is aiming for it every time he thrusts, it doesn’t take long for Dean to approach that knife’s edge of being overwhelmed with pleasure as heat curls in his belly and a tingling sensation spreads through his limbs and up his spine. To help him along, Castiel reaches down between them and begins to stroke Dean’s dick in time with his thrusts. This combination of Castiel jerking him off and pounding into his prostate is driving Dean absolutely _mad_ – he’s drifting away, floating around, only grounded by the volcanic heat melting his insides – but it’s not quite enough.

“ _Cas_ – God, Cas, so _good_ , so _perfect_ , angel –” he whines, head thrown back to expose his throat. Castiel takes advantage of this opportunity to move his lips to Dean’s throat and he bites, nearly drawing blood with how out of his mind he is at the moment. This burst of pain is exactly what Dean needs to finally come, arching off the bed and smashing their lips together to let Castiel’s faintly glowing mouth take in the long, whining moan that escapes him (Christ, he can see Castiel’s grace in his mouth and eyes, he’s really not sleeping with another person ever again, this is _so hot_ ). As scorching fire surges through him and he’s practically detached from his body, he spills over Castiel’s fist and his own belly, and his ecstasy is what Castiel seems to need to come himself, his eyes and mouth lit up with his pulsing grace.

“ _Dean_ –!”

He moves his head to sink his teeth into the meat between Dean’s neck and shoulder, wrenching a sharp intake of breath out of Dean, and Dean groans when he feels Castiel filling him up, pumping come deep inside him. His stomach jolts at the bright blue-white light radiating out of Castiel’s eyes and mouth, reminding him that Castiel isn’t human and is in fact an _angel_ who fell for him in every way possible. And honestly, if he can bring Castiel such pleasure that the angel can’t control his very life essence, Dean’s not sure if he can bring himself to feel guilty anymore. Especially not when a long, high-pitched sound is filling the room and causes the light bulb to shatter, followed by the glass in Dean’s pictures, then any other breakable thing he’s got in his room.

Exhausted, they both go limp, Castiel sprawled over Dean’s body. Neither of them seem to care about the sticky mess between their stomachs, and Dean’s too blissed-out to care about the come trickling out of his ass when Castiel reaches down with a shaky hand to pull himself out, then taps his fingers against Dean’s ass to clean them both up.

“My apologies, Dean,” Castiel says breathlessly. “I didn’t mean to be so loud but you felt so…amazing.”

Still recovering, Dean can’t say anything, but he just shoots Castiel an exhausted smile. Castiel’s lips twitch and he lazily waves a hand to restore everything he’d broken to their original state.

“Jesus Christ,” is all Dean can mumble when his voice returns, carding his fingers through Castiel’s hair. Castiel narrows his eyes, though not threateningly.

“I’m never going to get you to stop, am I?” he says. Dean grins at him.

“Nope. I’m a free spirit, Cas. You can’t tell me what to do.”

Castiel rolls his eyes to high heaven, then wriggles off Dean and snuggles into his side, pulling the covers up over them to their chests as their sweaty bodies start to cause them to shiver.

“That’s one of the many reasons I love you,” he says. Dean’s stomach does a flip, then begins to flutter when he looks at Castiel and sees blue eyes filled with affection and plump pink lips curved into a soft smile. “And as long as I’m still alive, no one will ever get their hands on you again. Not Naomi…not Heaven…not Hell…”

He leans up and gives Dean a sweet kiss.

“Nobody,” he says firmly. The intense look in his eyes successfully demolishes the last of Dean’s weakening defences and, a giddy grin on his face, he rolls on top of Castiel and kisses him deeply. Castiel sighs and melts into the kiss. When Dean pulls back for air, he slides back off Castiel and holds the angel close in his arms.

“My own little guardian angel,” he teases, pressing a kiss to Castiel’s damp black hair and stroking his back. Castiel smells of honey and fresh rain after a thunderstorm, along with the musky scent of sex, and Dean’s pretty sure he could get drunk off this smell alone for the rest of his life. Hell, he’d bottle it up and sell it as Amortentia if he wasn’t so possessive of the dorky little angel in his arms.

“I’ll smite you,” Castiel threatens, though this is ruined by the huge yawn he gives. Dean snickers.

“Of course you will. And that’s why I love you, sunshine.”


End file.
